The Golden Rattlesnake
by Gemini Explorer
Summary: A grim snake cult invades the Plateau, and the Treehouse crew must fight for their lives and those of their Zanga guests. Includes my characters Xma'Klee and Sa'eera.  He's Paramount Shaman of All the Zanga, and she's Chief Jacoba's youngest wife.


Appreciation is expressed to the rights holders of, "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World" for permission to use themes and characters from that television show. Any characters not seen on the show are the author's creations, as is the concept of George Challenger and Finn as a romantic couple. They will eventually marry, after discovering that Jessie Challenger died of flu in London in 1921. Be advised that Finn cuts George's hair and nurtures him in general, and that she has exchanged her crossbow from the show for firearms, obtained from perished expeditions like that in the episode, "Suspicion." By the time of this story, three couples have formed in the Treehouse: The Challengers, the Malones, and the Roxtons. The setting is beyond the Third Season, without regard for the cancelled Fourth Season or any of its possible plot lines. This story is rated Mature for limited nudity, mild sex, and violence. There is also a risqué joke and limited adult language. If readers are curious about any guns, animals, snakes, etc. in the story beyond what is included, please PM me for further details. The Tropical Rattlesnake is very real, the Brazilian subspecies being _Crotalus durissus terrificus_. And there is an island off the Brazilian coast that hosts a golden phase of the separate lancehead pit viper, _Bothrops atrox _or a very similar species_. _They have become especially venomous, and the island is closed to human entry by the Brazilian government. This was the inspiration for my story.

"The Golden Rattlesnake"

by

Gemini Explorer

Four white explorers and a young girl who looked to be European, but who was in fact an Indian tribal Royal, the youngest wife of Jacoba, King of All the Zanga, walked down a jungle path. They were half a mile from the huge Treehouse where the four explorers lived with their companions, and some five miles from the Zanga royal kraal, where the fifth resided with her fellow wives and their lord and his subjects. The plateau where they lived in northern Brazil had the usual assortment of Amazonian animals, and was unique in also having a number of prehistoric beasts in residence, most of whom bore careful watching, lest they dine on any humans they saw. It was a world in which the wise learned to be cautious, and those unwise often didn't live to old age.

They had been fishing at a broad pool in the river that ran near their home, and had caught several catfish, a small arapaima, and three colorful peacock "bass", also called _pavon_ or _tucanare_ by Brazilians.

The column was led by a British scientist, Prof. George Challenger, and his girlfriend and protégé, Nicole Elizabeth Finnegan, usually called "Finn", the nickname under which the others had originally come to know her. With them was Sa'eera, the Zanga regal, whose father had been an American, her mother a light-skinned Zanga girl. (The Zanga are not dark-hued Indians, in any case, being much like Polynesians in tone). However, Sa'eera definitely was unusual for her tribe in that she had hair as blonde as Finn's, the result, in her case, of Challenger making dye that colored her tresses the pigment of the sun, as her husband liked to say. King Jacoba liked blonde women, and Sa'eera and one other wife owed much of their popularity in his harem to Challenger's hair coloring

Following these three at a distance of some twenty yards was another couple. Like Challenger, they were British, and engaged to one another. Their prospects of marriage were slim at the moment, for no Church of England cleric was within many miles of what they had come to call the Plateau, with a capital "P". This affected their love not a whit, and they were deeply committed to one another. The man was named John Richard Roxton, and he was the XVIIIth Earl of Avebury, a Peer of the Realm, and a recipient of the Victoria Cross and other decorations for conspicuous military gallantry. The brunette woman was Marguerite Krux, a former jewel thief and double agent in the recent Great War, and also, quite remarkably, apparently the reincarnation of a Druid priestess, Morrighan. She was also an heiress, whose two husbands had died under mysterious circumstances…

As the first group passed around a bend in the trail, Marguerite stopped, tugging at Lord Roxton's shirt. She knelt low, studying the tracks just left by the others. She pretended to part the soil lightly with her fingers, and looked at it from a different angle, as if the light might reveal some secret that she sought.

"Marguerite, what are you doing?" asked a baffled Roxton. "The others are getting ahead of us!"

"I'm looking for the impression of Finn's lips," the wry brunette quipped. "I want to see where she kissed the ground over which George's shadow passed!" She looked up, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Oh, come, now, Darling! That was cruel." Roxton lifted her up and continued, "George and Finn are wonderful people, and have saved our lives several times. She does sort of worship him, but it's mean of you to satirize them. Well, maybe if you, Finn, and Veronica were all teasing one another, but otherwise..."

"It's not as bad as you think, John," she replied, a twinkle in her eye. "I kiss your shadow, too. You just have to look up along the tree trunks where your image has passed for the lipstick tracks, because when I'm with you, I'm walking on air!" And she saucily stuck out her tongue at him.

Roxton laughed in spite of himself, his amusement growing as Marguerite began blushing deeply as she realized that what she'd said came across more strongly than she'd intended.

"Well, it's true, John. Finn isn't the only woman among us who's smitten with a man! And now that I've baldly admitted it, I'll have you know that I'm even proud of what you do to my hormones, not to mention the hold that you have on my heart. Anyway, if you see lipstick smears on any trees from now on, you know how they got there."

Roxton chuckled. "I'll make a note of that, and I'd better see some. I like feeling appreciated, woman! As for doing things to your hormones, what do you say to the idea of asking Veronica, Ned, and the Challengers to cook those fish while I help you 'lie down' in your room and get over the weariness of this tiring journey? Fancy a massage...or anything more?"

"Why, Lord Roxton! That sounds almost salacious! I like it! But, what about Sa'eera? Maybe she'll stay with Finn; they're always talking, anyway."

"Sa'eera is a guest, and a queen shouldn't have to clean fish," he mused, "but I think she'll see the wisdom of making up some limeade and watching the others work." He leered, and pulled Marguerite to him, putting his mouth on hers, his darting tongue igniting tiny fires in her flesh wherever it touched. She felt a glow spread through her, and shuddered slightly, seizing John's head, lest he try to withdraw.

"Hey, Hot Lips!" came a call from the bend in the trail. "Unhand that man and catch up with us. We thought a jaguar or a raptor had eaten you two." Finn, unwittingly getting revenge for Marguerite's barb about her devotion to her own lover...

"Drat that little brat", laughed Marguerite. "But she does have a point, John. We don't want to delay them and get them in a bad mood, if we really plan to sneak off to our room and have you help me with my 'headache' when we get home."

Roxton chuckled, picked up the stringer of exotically colored pavon "bass" he'd laid down to embrace her, and they started rapidly after their friends.

Finn and Sa'eera stood waiting, hands on hips, Sa'eera obviously aping Finn's posture. Finn swiveled her hips lewdly and made a couple of humping motions as Sa'eera broke out laughing.

"Hey, Sailor," Finn called to Roxton, "Have fun in port?"

"That's what I get for teaching you to belly dance, Finn?" queried Marguerite. "_Et tu, Brute?"_

"No," the blonde vixen answered, "I ain't et no brutes lately. What are y'all talkin' 'bout, Limey gal?" (Although Brazilian-born, Finn was genetically Anglo, and was fluent in slang English.)

Challenger, who had been about to admonish Finn mildly for her clowning (which he had nonetheless found arousing and amusing) started coughing and yielded to laughter, himself.

"How exactly did you move, then?" asked Sa'eera, trying to slide her hips around as provocatively as her friend from the future had done. She, too, had learned Middle Eastern dance from their brunette companion, to the intense delight of her royal husband, who had presented an emerald to Marguerite as a reward for that instruction.

"Give John and me an hour to ourselves when we get home, and I'll show both of you blonde bimbos how to do that right," offered Marguerite.

"Really, M?" Finn was intrigued. She and Sa'eera looked at one another and shook hands. "You're on, girl. Just let me know when you and John shower after your 'massage', and I'll put on a pot of coffee to give you the energy to teach us." And Sa'eera, blushing, nodded enthusiastically, too. Not only did dancing in that manner make the young queen feel grown-up and sensual, it was a very useful art to demonstrate when she wanted a favor from Jacoba...

"I think we need to be getting back whether Marguerite holds dance classes today or not," said Challenger, gazing up at the sky. "Looks as if we have rain inbound, and I don't want these fish to spoil before we dress them and get them on ice. I recall a bottle of white Burgundy we have left, and I fancy having it with fresh broiled fish fillets tonight."

"Capital idea, George," chimed in Roxton, already tasting the fish, lush with lemon and butter, washed from his palate with the bottle of Le Montrachet that Challenger meant. There was also a case remaining of Chablis Grand Cru from the splendid vineyard of Les Clos, now that he thought about it. These Chardonnay wines would hold up well, and should now be at or near their peak, most having arrived with Veronica Layton's father or with later expeditions. He could almost feel the stem of a glass in his hand, swirling the pale golden liquid, inhaling the bouquet...

"John!" ejaculated Marguerite. "Get back here! Where was your mind?" She nudged his ribs with her elbow.

He told her what was in his thoughts, and she agreed that if her man was going to have fantasies not revolving around her, that this one was very suitable, and in fact, it made her hungry, also. So it was that the little group quickened their pace, homeward bound.

As they pushed toward home, Challenger noticed a rustle in the grass just off the trail, and he drew his .45 Colt revolver, extending his left hand to stop Finn, who was walking next to him, Sa'eera just behind her.

Finn passed her fish to the other blonde, and drew her Smith & Wesson .38, but could see nothing except movement. She called a warning to the Roxtons, who went on the alert, also. In this region, motion in the long grass meant potential danger.

Challenger saw a snake flash across a bald spot, and coil on an adjacent rock. Its tail vibrated nastily, the sound of castanets in the hands of a frenzied gypsy dancer. Rattlesnake! The virulent tropical variety that had largely neurotoxic venom, which required enormous amounts of anti-venin, when that was available, and they had none. The venom didn't form antibodies in horse serum as readily as did most pit vipers' product, and that somewhat limited production at the Instituto Butantan, the primary source, far from this Plateau.

"Just look at that snake!" he exclaimed. "It's a deep yellow or golden color, not the usual brown, black, and tan scheme. I've never seen anything like it!"

"Genius, don't you DARE try to catch that damned thing," begged Finn, terrified that her lover and mentor would want this serpent for his research.

"No, no, "begrudged Challenger. "It would be too dangerous, I concede, but it is beautiful. Look at the rhombs on the back: they still show, but are a darker gold."

"Yes, well, it's about to turn black and blue and red, "snapped Marguerite, and she shot into the coils with her sidearm. "You are NOT to touch that vile thing, George", she commanded.

The snake, wounded but not fatally hit, squirmed and made directly for the nearest humans, and Finn and George both fired into it. Neither hit the head, until it contorted almost at their feet, at which point Roxton called for a cease-fire, stepped forward, and beheaded it with a whack of his long Martindale machete.

"Next time, Marguerite, try for the head, and let us know first, please," commented Challenger dryly.

They left the snake, not needing the meat, but Challenger, standing well clear of the head, bent over it first, studying it intently, until Finn tugged at his sleeve.

"Lover, please come on," she pleaded. "That rain is getting closer, and it just scares me no end when you get too close to these things. They don't know that you just want to gawk at them, and someday, one of us is going to be bitten by one of these slithering bastards. We'd be lucky if someone just lost a limb. People DIE from what those fangs can do. I waited all of my life to find you, and I'm NOT giving you up to some yucky reptile."

He looked at her tenderly, nodded, clasped her to his side and kissed her cheek. "All right, Darling. We had indeed better go." He glanced at the sky again, and they walked briskly past the snake, now within a few blocks of home.

"Thanks a bunch, Marguerite. Now, I have to clean my gun tonight." Finn wasn't happy with her friend's trigger happiness on occasion.

"Well, so do I, Pretty Puss," responded Marguerite. "Not to mention George. But I was afraid that he'd try to catch that thing or that it would go for us as we passed. You can be a nuisance, Sweetie, but I like you, and you look better without your leg all swollen and black from snakebite!"

"Ladies..." cautioned Challenger and Roxton, as one breath. "I'll clean your gun, Finn, and George's and Marguerite's. This isn't worth arguing about", Roxton continued.

"Johnny, it's all right. I was a bitch. I apologize. I'll clean the guns, even Marguerite's. She was just worried." Finn took her string of fish from Sa'eera, gave Challenger a repentant look, and led the way toward the Treehouse.

"I like her better all the time," admitted Marguerite softly to Roxton. "She really isn't too bad when she isn't trying to be funny at my expense. Was I really out of line, John?"

He shook his head briefly, pulled her to him for a moment, and they hurried, the rain now close, the sky grumbling in anger at the jungle below, fierce torrents poised to pound the Plateau.

After they had passed, the headless snake still twitched occasionally, and the jaws contracted as something passed inches away. A coatimundi circled twice, then seized the remains in its jaws and skittered away into the bush, eager to consume its prize before the raindrops fell.

Later, in the Treehouse, the rain beat fiercely on the heavy bamboo protective curtains, and Challenger was glad that he had developed his new anti-mold and mildew coating.

The Roxtons had retired to their room while John helped Marguerite "relax" and gave her a massage. The others gave one another knowing glances and smiled as they began dinner. Ned Malone and Veronica Layton joined Finn in the kitchen, while Challenger showered, then completed an experiment in the lab.

Malone called out that dinner was served just as the Roxtons emerged from the shower and dressed, and the "family" enjoyed a delicious repast, the fish complemented by a selection of vegetables harvested from the garden before the rain struck. They poured the Le Montrachet, which had chilled in an ice bucket, and the mood was congenial, Sa'eera entertaining them with stories from the Zanga villages, especially from the Royal kraal.

After, Malone and Veronica cleaned up the dishes, while Finn, John Roxton, and Sa'eera sat at a table in the main living room, cleaning the guns that had been fired that afternoon. In a tropical climate, this was not a task that could be long delayed, rust lurking near at hand, threatening anything made of steel and left un-oiled. Gunpowder residue attracted moisture, so cleaning was needed, hopefully the same day the guns were discharged. Sa'eera was fascinated as the other two told her how firearms operated and let her "dry fire" the unloaded revolvers.

Challenger sat at the dining table with Marguerite, having coffee, and in George's case, a slice of a blackberry pie made earlier that day.

Marguerite gazed speculatively at Finn across the room, pleased to hear the other woman laugh at something that Roxton said, then explaining the joke to Sa'eera. The three were a congenial group, and Finn and John were the only two people she would trust to maintain her .38. She smiled at the thought of not having to get gun-cleaning solvent and oil on her own hands.

She turned to Challenger and complimented him on his fresh haircut and the way that Finn had trimmed his beard. "You look ten years younger, George, with well trimmed hair and your beard no longer looking as if you were a prophet in the wilderness, or a pirate on a long cruise."

He chuckled, remarking humorously that there were uses for women other than for cooking and sex, at least, when they could use scissors on his hair as skillfully as Finn did. "I feel nurtured, Marguerite. It gives me a completeness that I thought never to achieve in this life, and I am a happy man. Of course, I would be happier if I knew more about that golden rattlesnake we shot today. I wonder if we shall see another? Darwin posited that such changes occur in response to environment, and I see no reason why it should differ in pigmentation from the others that we see. I wish they weren't so dangerous to handle! Finn came to me after we got back this afternoon, and offered to help me catch one if I felt it was truly important, even confessing to a certain curiosity about it. I fear that my zeal for scientific knowledge is affecting her, which is why we work so well together in the lab.

"Normally, I welcome her help, but in this instance, I told her that the risk is too great. I could not bear it if she came to harm, just so I could examine a live venomous snake at close quarters. I suppose that I shall have to kill one less messily, and preserve it in formaldehyde, and figure out what I can about it through a glass jar..."

Marguerite grimaced, saying that she wasn't convinced that the world really had a great need to know more about things that slithered and bit, and that she was glad that George wouldn't risk Finn in his perennial quest for knowledge.

"She has been through some rather grim things in her life, and becoming your mate has meant the world to that girl," she continued. "George, during the time that we were unwilling guests of the late Avery Burton, Finn and I got pretty close. (See, "A Night in the Lost World" on this board.) We exchanged a few confidences, and she did her best to distract him from me. I will be ever grateful for that, and some of what she did is too embarrassing to relate, especially to the man whom she loves. But I can tell you, when she murmured in her sleep in that cold cell, the word she spoke most often was your name. I will not betray her confidences, but I will say that I am delighted that you and Nicole found one another, and I only hope that John and I will be as close forever as you and she, however much I may tease her about idolizing you. Keep that in mind if I twit her about it at times. I really like Finn, very much. I'll never forget that it was the two of you who were first through that door into the room where Cuauhtémoc's guards held us in Xochilenque. Thank you again for that. John and I had begun to despair, and I was really worried about infection in his wounds." (See, "The Crystal Skull", not at present on the Net.)

"Marguerite," reflected Challenger quietly, "You are not alone in sharing confidences with Finn. She has mumbled in her sleep, and sometimes, lying quietly in my arms on a still night, she has told me things that have happened to her in her long, short life, and I wish fervently that her eyes had not had to behold some scenes that they have. It is a special pleasure for me to try to make the rest of her life more pleasant, and I daily thank Almighty God that I have become a positive factor in her existence. She is less tense, less sarcastic, than when we met, and she has apologized to me repeatedly for robbing us when we first saw her.

"I feel enormous responsibility for her when I wake, and she is plastered to me as tightly as she can get, rambling in her sleep, and I do my best to comfort her when nightmares disturb her slumber." He shook his head wonderingly. "Sometimes, I marvel that she came into my life, and I will do all that I can to heal her soul, which I know is often still troubled. Please forgive her ribaldry today: she meant no real harm in teasing you. I think it is therapeutic that she feels close enough to you to take such liberties. She tells me privately that she admires you greatly."

"Thank you, George. I appreciate what you have said, and you are also admired, by me and even by John. He thinks the world of you. I want you to know, for men seldom make such admissions to other men, perhaps because they fear it will reflect on their masculinity. What a pity that your sex must seem so stoic and so _macho_! More coffee? I'm feeling generous; I'll go after it." She smiled fondly at the Renaissance man whom she called friend.

"Thank you, yes, I'll have more." He glanced at the cream and sugar, told her that there was enough of each, and Marguerite rose and went for coffee. George looked fondly at the trio gathered at the far table, laughing as they shared some story that amused them, and he looked longingly on Finn, especially. I am a lucky man, he reflected, and I hope to prove worthy of that young woman's love. She has yet to grasp fully just how much a difference she has made in my life, but I feel a new man. And he smiled to himself, at peace with his heart and with the world.

Later, Finn, Veronica, Sa'eera, and Marguerite donned the Zanga halter tops and loincloths that the white girls had gotten for Christmas and Veronica put a record of Arabic music on her Victrola gramophone.

Marguerite taught them subtle hip movements that refined their motions and drew gasps from the men and the other girls alike. Spontaneous applause burst out, with Challenger and Roxton calling out praise for her consummate skills. Ned Malone applauded politely, but he was blushing guiltily, especially as Veronica walked deliberately to stand in front of him and swayed gracefully in tune to the wailing, skirling music, with the clash of cymbals and tinkle of bells to stir the pulse, swirling her red sarong like a matador's cape.

The others laughed at Ned's embarrassment, and in time, he, too, was enjoying the performance, as Roxton made the rounds, pouring wine into the men's' glasses.

Sa'eera and Finn dared Marguerite to dance her sultry best, and after Roxton got another glass of Le Montrachet down her as she watched the others move, she took the floor, uninhibited, wild, fluttering muscles that most people don't realize that they possess. Watching her loins rotate and squirm made Roxton burn for her body and before long, he rose, took her by the hand, and asked the others to excuse them as he felt the need to retire for the night, and wanted "to make sure that Marguerite gets upstairs all right, as she has had too much to drink."

The other girls tittered, and Veronica played the record again, after which everyone had another cup of coffee as the girls breathed deeply and settled their excitement. Finn brought Challenger's coffee, put it on a small table to his right, and sat on his lap as he drank. Her eyes were bright, half from exercise, half from excitement and wine, and in a few minutes, the couple excused themselves, as they "had much to do tomorrow in the lab."

The Malones and Sa'eera looked at one another and smiled, Ned shaking his head at the slim excuses the other couples had produced to justify calling this an early night. A peal of feminine laughter came from the door of George and Finn's room, then the door abruptly shut and the three left in the room below looked at one another and laughed outright.

Veronica and Sa'eera taunted Ned briefly with their newly refined dance moves, and the trio then finished cleaning up the kitchen before retiring to their own rooms, leaving the remaining fish on ice in the electric refrigerator. Even on nights in which frivolity lightened their mood, food was a resource not to be wasted in this perilous land.

Later, Ned and Veronica lay in one another's arms, Vee having shown Ned how those dance moves could prove useful in more intimate circumstances. They gasped with the aftermath of their exertion, and he wryly noted that girls in large cities should learn such motions for exercise. Veronica giggled and said that it wasn't their exercise that interested him, but instead, the exercise that his eyes got from watching.

"I can't believe that Marguerite was that uninhibited," Ned mused. "What do you suppose got into her? She used to be so reserved and secretive."

Veronica snuggled closer and threw a leg across him as she answered that she thought it was partly a desire to show up Finn and Sa'eera after what they had done earlier that day, and partly that Marguerite was playing directly to Roxton, seeing how long he could watch her before no longer being able to control the lust that she aroused in him.

Ned shook his head. "Those two are really something," he marveled. "But don't underrate yourself, Vee." He used Finn's pet name for her to tease, not really liking it, otherwise. "You weren't exactly the picture of chastity tonight, yourself."

"Why, Mr. Malone, whatever do you mean?" she giggled, nuzzling his neck.

And so, Ned rolled her over and showed her just what lingering effect her gyrating had had on him. It was quite late when they finally turned off the lamp in their room, and they were very tired.

Next door, Challenger and Finn lay cuddled, talking of anything and everything, sharing their lives and their confidences in the privacy of their innermost sanctum. Finally, they, too, turned out the light, and the Treehouse was quiet.

In the jungle below, half a mile away, a file of secretive men walked an obscure trail. They said little, and moved carefully, several carrying baskets within which serpents rustled and rattled. Had one been able to see within those baskets, he would have beheld golden coils of horror...

CHAPTER TWO

Morning dawned in the east, the sun rising over the jungle like a rim of fire, a solar corona engulfing the Plateau in its embrace, then the clouds came into view as the last darkness of the night receded, blooming roseate, conch, and blue, then to the fluffy white of full day. Cumulus, mainly, thought Challenger, as he stood on the veranda outside the door of his room. Turning his attention to the forest below, he scanned with his Carl Zeiss 8X30 binocular, having left the big 10X50 in the main living area, as usual, where it could be quickly accessed by any Treehouse family member who saw something approaching.

Finn came to stand beside him, her hair brushed now, but still wearing only bikini panties, her usual sleeping costume, when she wore anything. Today, they were dark jade green, with hand sewn lace trim at the leg openings and the outline of a rose over her abdomen. She had just put her hair in a ponytail, which kept it out of the way in the lab, and which George liked to pull playfully when no one was watching. Finn liked that; him taking her by the hair tended to accelerate her heart rate and made her feel as if he was taking possession of her, a fantasy that made her feel that she was especially and fully his, and that he meant to keep her. I bet that cave girls felt this way when their men dragged them off, she speculated. Well, maybe after they'd been with the big guys for awhile, anyway, and had begun to be glad that they were the ones the men chose. The initial capture was probably more traumatic. Or, maybe some tribes traded women for arrowheads, she guessed. I wonder how many perfect flint arrowheads my body would have brought...

She slipped an arm around George's waist, and leaned against him, looking out over the vast distances that lay like a tableau below them, rising on her toes to reach the tall man's cheek to kiss him. "This is all so huge," she all but whispered. "It makes me feel trivial by comparison. It's a good thing that I have a big man to lean on." She grinned impishly up at George.

He held the binocular in his left hand, and gave her ponytail a jerk before dropping his arm to spank her bottom a playful stroke, causing her to cuddle even closer and make a sort of brief purring noise that thrilled him and brought him to full alertness.

"Finn, I suspect that I lean on you as much as you do on me, maybe more. But don't stop playing to my male ego. I love it." He chuckled and backed up two steps, so she could slide around in front and press her full length against him. He let the Zeiss glass hang from its neck strap on his left side, enveloping her in his powerful arms, her head snuggling into his chest. He felt goose bumps rise on her skin, probably mainly due to the slight chill of early morning, the sun not having yet heated the Plateau to the oven that it would become in an hour or so. He wrapped her in his arms, leaning down to kiss her lips, until they parted and she stood again on his right, still holding hands.

The next door along the veranda opened, and Veronica stepped out, stretching. She looked to her right and saw the Challengers, George in a maroon dressing robe and Finn now sheltering behind him with a self conscious grin. Veronica rolled her eyes, but was glad that she had paused to dress before coming out. She almost hadn't, and Finn would have teased her for it, with George probably making a show of clearing his throat noisily and ducking back inside.

"Good morning, Vee", ventured her "little sister". "Want help making breakfast? George and I were just about to dress and go downstairs."

"Sure, Finn. I need coffee, bad. My head hurts. I'm going to let Ned sleep until breakfast is ready. I'll meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes. No need to wake the Roxtons or Sa'eera, either, until everything is nearly ready." And she stepped back in after a look around, and shut the door.

Challenger slid an arm around Finn's shoulders. "You know, Darling, Veronica is really a wonderful person. I don't know what we should have done, had she not taken us in. It would be nice if we think of something to show her our appreciation."

Finn agreed. "That's a cool idea, Genius. Let me reflect on it. Shall we involve the others? If it comes from just us they may think it's presumptive of us to offer our own thanks, when we all depend on her so much."

"Yes, we'll approach the Roxtons later today, and probably Sa'eera, if she wants in on it, but I think we'll leave Ned in the dark. He might let something slip, or feel guilty about having to keep a secret from her." They smiled at poor Ned, whose honesty was one of his finest points, but sometimes made him less subtle than was desirable for certain social interactions...

They shut the door and Finn passed George his clothes. He put them on, then became aware that she wasn't dressing, just standing, arms folded, watching him. He asked why she was looking; was something the matter?

"No, Muscles," she smiled. "I just like watching you sometimes, and thinking that I'm yours. It is just so damned wonderful to not have to feel totally alone any more. Can you imagine what that means to me?"

He came off the bed and pulled her to him. "Yes, Nicole, I think I can guess. You're pretty wonderful for me, too."

In a moment, they reluctantly separated, and she held up a white bra and lime green shirtdress for his approval. He nodded, and she dressed, wearing sandals, and when he had pulled on his boots, they picked up their gun belts and went down to help Veronica. The smell of coffee was already wafting up the stairs, and George thought how wonderful life was, especially so on mornings like this one.

When everyone was tableside, they enjoyed breakfast, although several said they wished they'd managed more sleep. Roxton looked directly at Marguerite and said, "Of course, everything in life is a trade-off. There are things that I'd trade for sleep."

She nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee, but managed to swallow before she began laughing, in spite of herself.

The humor was contagious, even the stolid Ned managing a big smile.

Sa'eera started to ask what Roxton meant about trading sleep for something else, but Finn leaned over and whispered in her ear, after which she also laughed, blushing.

"More eggs, anyone? Coffee?" asked Veronica.

"I need coffee," declared Marguerite. "I always need coffee, but today, I need it more than usual. That man Roxton kept me up half the night. He wanted to tell me about every animal he'd shot in Africa...or something like that. I lost track after a while, but I think that's what he was doing in my room. I remember him being there for SOMETHING." She gave John a cool look, with raised eyebrow. Everyone else just groaned, and Challenger asked for another scrambled egg.

After all had eaten and the Challengers had finished an experiment in the lab, Veronica helped Sa'eera to pack, and the crew prepared to escort her back to the Zanga royal village.

Finn went upstairs and changed into her usual black shorts outfit, better suited for the trail than her green dress that she'd wanted to wear to brighten the breakfast table and begin the day. She shoved her Swiss Army knife in the pocket of her shorts, buckled on her Smith & Wesson, and collected George's hat from the room before going back downstairs.

When all had gone down in the elevator and cleared the Treehouse, Roxton switched on the electrical current to keep their home safe in their absence, and they struck out for the riverside path.

Halfway to the Zanga village, they veered off to a smaller path that would shorten their journey by about a mile. They also wanted to gather berries that they knew grew along the way.

Pushing some brush aside with the stock of her Winchester M-92 carbine , Finn noted that the grass had been trodden down by what looked like the imprint of a human foot. She cast about and found several more tracks.

She called Veronica and Roxton over. Veronica was familiar with the sandals of almost all Plateau inhabitants, and Roxton was a master tracker, a skill the hunter had learned in Kenya on his safaris. He also could recall a track that he'd seen before. Neither recognized the tread of these sandals, nor did Sa'eera, who said that they were definitely not Zanga. The imprints, where a whole foot could be discerned, looked to be those of adult males, weighing at least 150 pounds. Roxton knelt and studied the edges of the tracks, checking for the moisture content of the dirt and examining the crumbling edges.

"I'd say that these people passed here late last night," he concluded, "and there were quite a few of them. Probably thirty to forty, and some had heavier loads than others."

They decided to follow their original path, but to be alert for whoever had made these tracks. Jacoba would want to send warriors to investigate when they told him; these were the hunting grounds of the Zanga, and others were regarded with suspicion.

The travelers resumed the trail, but Finn glanced back in the direction that the tracks led. She felt a tingle that usually meant that danger was near. She was barely 24 years old, but had long since developed instincts that she trusted, and the prickle that ran up her spine left her uneasy. She caught up to Challenger and Roxton, and walked next to them, keeping a close eye on Sa'eera, ready to rush to her aid if they were attacked.

In the Zanga kraal, they told Jacoba of their discovery, and he summoned a senior warrior and had him take some men to look for the intruders. Then, he and the explorers spoke briefly and he asked Sa'eera what she had done on her visit to the Treehouse.

After the midday meal, eaten with the royal family, during which Assai and Veronica caught up on things, the Treehouse group did some trading in the marketplace, which was operated bazaar style, with much bartering being the order of the day. This frustrated Marguerite, who thought it smacked of petty haggling with vendors in Latin America and the Middle East, and was beneath her dignity. Nonetheless, she was very adept at it, having long experience with such dealings in various parts of the world.

The other girls loved the banter and barter and even Challenger found some useful items. Most were of scientific interest or for lab supplies, but he bought Finn a silver pendant on a neck chain and a set of matching earrings. Roxton bought Marguerite a bracelet made of various colorful hollowed -out stones and cured seeds, thin enough to look good on her slim wrist, and in a kaleidoscope of colors. When he wasn't looking, Finn bought George a flat, polished piece of jade, incised with symbols meaning that the giver was a female who offered herself with the giving of the stone, to the man who had won her heart. Such things were given at Zanga betrothal ceremonies, and the woman who sold it to her giggled with her over its purpose, and looked at Challenger with amusement and interest. He noticed, and looked to see that he didn't have anything messy on him, and then wrote off what he'd seen as female silliness. He was quite surprised when Finn gave him the jade piece an hour later, explaining its purpose...but very pleased and deeply touched.

Finally, with the afternoon half gone, the Treehouse crew set off on their return journey, eager to get home before dark. There were things in the jungle here after dark that were as awful as any nightmare that ever haunted a waking child in the blackness of his room in a civilized home. Many of them ate people.

As they trekked off, a man stretched along a limb high above the trail they used watched their passage with great interest, especially noting their light skin and the golden hair of the two "sisters", Veronica and Finn. And he noted the rifles carried by all but Veronica, and his eyes narrowed, for he knew what rifles were and did not like what they could do to him and to his men. These strangers would have to be treated with caution. They had the means to defend themselves. Even the girl without a rifle wore a quiver of arrows and carried a bow like she might know how to use it. No matter, he thought. The greater the difficulty of taking it, the greater the pleasure in the prize!

He lay silent, shrouded in the dappled shadows of the leaves as they passed, his eyes green-gold, like those of a watching jaguar. And his heart was as cold and calculating as that of a stalking jungle cat.

Jacoba's men had lost the trail within a mile of where the explorers had said it began, the tracks disappearing after the intruders had reached a pasture of stony ground. J'leeya, the head warrior, conferred with his best trackers, who said that the trail had been swept in places, obviously to confound anyone who might follow the group that they sought. The sandals were, as Roxton had said, unlike any tread they knew.

After casting about for an hour and not finding any new sign, J'leeya ordered a return to their village. But his heart was heavy, for he must tell Jacoba that they had found no answers, only troubling questions.

CHAPTER THREE

The next morning, Veronica was cleaning up after breakfast when she heard Marguerite's boots coming up the stairs from the deck below.

"Is there any coffee left?" queried the heiress.

"I'd better make a new pot," said the Layton lass. "What's left has been there for over an hour and probably tastes like used printer's ink by now. Challenger says that the oils in coffee separate after about an hour, and it become bitter and acidic. Now that we can grow coffee, there's no reason not to make a fresh pot when we want."

"Marvelous. I knew there was a use for blondes. Let me know when it's ready." And Marguerite plopped down in a chair at the dining table, grinning like a shark. She enjoyed teasing the other women about being blonde, and she still avoided most work that she didn't have to do.

Veronica arched an eyebrow but held her tongue. Doubtless, Marguerite had some clever reply cocked and ready, expecting her to demur. She'd just sidestep the barb this time.

Instead, she cleaned out the pot and began making fresh coffee.

"I thought you were going to water the garden after breakfast?"

"Oh, I did. Personally. I got mud all over my hands, but the damned greens should grow. And, yes, I did remember to put the insect net back in place so the vicious bugs can't eat the spinach! We need spinach! A girl has to keep up her strength, you know. I came back in and hung around on the floor below for awhile, but the Gun People were there, getting their hands oily, and wanting to talk about their toys."

"The Gun People?" asked Veronica. "Is this some new race or tribe on the Plateau?" She smiled, pretending that she didn't understand.

"Oh, hell, Vee, you know who I mean: John and Finn! They get into that, and leave me out, except for occasional courtesy glances and ribald remarks from Roxton or ribbing from Finn. Do you realize that the Maxim machine gun, which they have apart and are cleaning, has an action much like a reversal of that of the Luger pistol, except that the toggle joint works sort of upside down compared to Herr Georg Luger's creation? I wonder how I've gotten through life so far without knowing that. Did YOU know that, Jungle Girl? Are there any of those cornmeal buns left, and honey? Watering the garden gave me an appetite again. Hard labor does that to me."

"There are buns and honey. Get some for me, too, while I put the coffee on and finish washing up. No, I didn't know about the Luger and Maxim actions. I'll have to tell Ned. I'm sure he'll want to know, for his eternal journal writing". She chuckled, shaking her head. It was true that Finn and Roxton got pretty deeply into their mutual interest in firearms, and if Marguerite had felt that she wasn't the center of their attention, she probably had become bored. Well, Veronica could use the company, and Miss Krux had mellowed over the years she'd been here. Like Challenger had teased recently, she was now tolerable, in small doses. Even her lover, John Roxton, had laughed at that, earning him an elbow in the ribs from his woman, who had been seated next to him at the time. But she hadn't jabbed very hard, then she, too, had smiled, grudgingly.

The coffee ready, the women sat and drank it from Limoges china selected by Marguerite, who had spent freely from Shanghai Xan's treasury when equipping this expedition. Marguerite had her faults, but failing to love luxury was not among them!

In a few minutes, Ned Malone, who had been repairing the windmill they used to power the generator, came in, cleaned up, and joined them. He poured a cup, pulled a chair over next to Veronica, and kissed her as he sat down.

"What's Challenger doing in the lab today?" he asked.

"Finn said he was finishing up his petroleum filtration and purifying system," answered Marguerite. "It will let him clean raw oil into refined, cleaner, oil to lube our guns and fishing reels, and he thinks he can enhance its properties. I wish he'd do something really NICE, like discover how to turn lead into gold."

"Alchemy?" puzzled Ned. "If anyone can do that, it'd be George. Pass the honey, Honey." This to his blonde honey, Veronica, who rolled her eyes at his witticism, as did the brunette woman. But she blushed slightly and smiled as she gave him the sweetener. It was good to have Ned as more than a brother, no longer confused about what he wanted from her, since his declaration of love that fateful afternoon three months ago in Xochilenque, the forbidden treasure city of the dreaded Tecamaya tribe.

A trill of feminine amusement came from below, followed by Roxton's deeper laugh. Clearly, the Gun People were enjoying themselves. Veronica walked out onto the veranda and looked at the jungle below. This was a wonderful day. Later, she would ask Ned to join her for a hike. Then, her eyes narrowed. She had seen movement in a tree about two hundred yards away, almost on the level of the Treehouse. She walked quickly to a nearby table and grabbed the 7X50 Bausch & Lomb binocular that they were now using for checking the area since Challenger had decided to take his Zeiss unit back up to his room earlier that morning. The B&L had been recovered from another expedition and worked as well as the German glass, if less powerful. Veronica now focused it on the limb where something had disturbed the foliage.

"What is it, Baby?" called Ned, aware of the tension in her body.

"Nothing, I guess', she replied after a moment. "Probably, a big bird or a monkey. I thought I saw something in a tree."

In the jungle at the base of that tree, a man slid down the final few feet and brushed bits of dust and bark from his copper hued limbs. He accepted his spear from a companion who had held it while he climbed the forest giant and studied the Treehouse, where the white people had gone the previous evening.

The two men talked, then set off for their camp, one bringing a basket with a carefully secured top. When he lifted it, a buzzing sound came from within the basket. One man looked at the other and chuckled. _"? Este es una cascavel furioso, no?"_ And the snake did sound angry...

The other man grinned, nodded, and they left, talking of what the first man had seen from his perch high above the ground.

CHAPTER FOUR

Two days later, dusk was approaching when a group of girls in the Zanga royal kraal went to Jacoba's senior wife and asked her to tell the monarch that three girls who had gone earlier that afternoon to wash and to gather flowers and berries had failed to return.

Jacoba was hearing them out when J'leeya and another senior warrior approached and announced that two hunters had also failed to return and that he had discovered signs of a struggle where one was known to have gone looking for wild boar. Careful examination had revealed one of the strange new sandal tracks, although the ground had been brushed out, and the tracks of animals had since passed over the ground.

Jacoba listened gravely, and had the assembly conch horn sounded, calling a session-in- council of his sub chiefs from vassal villages and of his tribal elders, including J'leeya. Additional fires were lit near the edges of the compound, and more warriors than usual stood watch, some on the elevated towers that cornered the enclosure.

The following morning, Sa'eera and Assai asked Jacoba for permission to warn the Treehouse dwellers that something was amiss, and might also be a danger to them.

He considered, but was swayed when Xma'Klee, the Paramount Shaman, also approached and told the king that he would accompany the girls, as he needed to take a careful selection of herbs and mosses that he had been gathering to George Challenger, who was seeking a cure for the pox, which had killed several Zanga earlier that year. He also was near finding a cure for another fever that was a grave threat in the wet months.

Jacoba assented, telling them to take twenty warriors, and to stay the night with "Veronica's people" rather than risk traveling back in the dark.

Thus it was that the Zanga emissaries were sighted from the Treehouse at three that afternoon, as Veronica and Marguerite sat having tea on the veranda. Finn and Roxton were hunting, and Challenger and Malone were installing a new, finer-meshed net over the new section of the garden, where the group had just planted squash, pumpkins, and tomatoes.

When the escorting warriors had made camp and the Royal party and the Treehouse men had gone upstairs for tea and lemonade, Xma'Klee told the whites about the missing persons.

Everyone was gravely concerned, and when Roxton and Finn returned an hour later with four opossums and an agouti that they had killed, all were relieved that they were back safely.

That night, the bamboo shutters in the Treehouse were closed tightly, and the Zanga girls slept together in the guest room, although Xma'Klee went to spend the night with his men after eating with their hosts. He had made a point of eating with them after seeing the opossums. Xma'Klee was very fond of the flesh of that marsupial, and Veronica had a way of cooking meats that greatly appealed to his otherwise savage palate.

As they lay in bed, Finn asked Challenger what he thought might lie behind the disappearances. The distinguished scientist shrugged, but said that they would probably find the answers after going over the ground and eliminating what definitely hadn't happened. What was left would provide the answer.

"I don't like that sandal print," the blonde vixen who shared his thoughts so closely mused. "George, if they swept that trail, it HAS to be these strangers who are behind this. Normal predators might carry off a Zanga or two on the same day, but not that many at once and they don't brush out the trail after they take a human victim."

"That's what most worries me, "Challenger admitted, "but I'm glad that we're thinking the same way. It just goes to show that a few, especially brilliant, women may have the mental power of men." He was already laughing as she hit him with her pillow, now giggling, herself.

In the depths of the nocturnal jungle, drums sounded as the Rattlesnake Clan gathered after the evening meal. Men danced the symbolic dances of their kind, and in time, brought out three of the snake baskets.

The bound, gagged, missing Zanga tethered to a log to the side of the fire winced as they saw what was in the baskets, and one Zanga man struggled fiercely as he was unleashed and dragged toward the large, bronzed chieftain of this strange band, who now wore a kirtle of golden rattlesnake skins and a golden snake symbol on his head, the crown of his office as head priest of this ominous assembly.

The hapless Zanga man was staked out on the ground, and his terror mounted as the band of worshippers began to dance around him, each shaking a gourd filled with shed rattles of the reptiles that they held sacred to their kind.

In time, the music stopped, and the leader began to speak, to intone a soliloquy to the Snake God. He was known to his men as The Golden Rattlesnake, and it was his office to perform their highest ceremonies. Tonight, they would sacrifice to their heathen deity for the first time after arriving in this new land.

CHAPTER FIVE

The following morning, Xma'Klee came up to have breakfast in the Treehouse, and told the explorers that he had heard strange drums during the night.

"They were faint, and far away, but also beaten softly, so that the sound would be harder to follow. But these people may know that the Zanga and most other tribes on this Plateau avoid being out at night if we can avoid it. Too many dangerous animals prowl in the darkness, and who knows which spirits join them?"

He looked grave, for he was an Indian, and to him, spirits were a valid concern. Indeed, many a European has had misgivings when passing near a cemetery at night, and to Xma'Klee, the whole nighttime jungle was as a cemetery was to an Irishman.

Roxton gave Marguerite a stern look, sensing that she was about to make an irreverent remark about superstitious savages, which would be ill received by this powerful shaman. But Marguerite sensed this, and smiled back at John, shaking her head slightly to let him know that she would hold her sharp tongue, at least until the Zanga party had left their white hosts.

Veronica served eggs from the hens they now kept in an enclosure within the electric fence, making them available daily, without having to wonder how fresh any turtle eggs found in the wild were. Marguerite had had pithy comment on being wakened at dawn by the two roosters, but even she had succumbed to the allure of another food source close at hand, and now only grumbled half-heartedly. The others had learned to let half of her gripes pass through one ear and out the other, without being angry, anyway. As Roxton had told Malone and Challenger, to bitch is Woman, and Marguerite is All Woman. They had laughed, and sympathized with him, for he heard her litany of complaints more than the rest of them. Some of these remarks now were seen as really being her form of caustic humor, not meant to cut or emotionally maim the listener to the degree that they once had. Her complaints were often quite funny, if one sensed the humor as well as the sarcasm.

Finn and Veronica brought in platters of bacon and ham from a wild pig as well as eggs and homemade bread. Coffee was shared, even the Zanga guests having become fond of this hot drink, save for Assai, who said that it was too hot and too bitter.

Talk was mainly about crops, hunting, and about the missing Zanga, and everyone was worried, for something was obviously wrong.

"There was an ominous tone in those drums," opined Challenger. "They reminded me of those damned sacrificial drums of the Tecamaya. Something about the cadence was unwholesome. What it stirred in my mind is troubling to contemplate."

Xma'Klee looked at Marguerite. "Sorceress, what do you sense?" he asked. "What did the drum rhythms say to your dark side, which we both know dwells within you? You discern things from senses that most humans do not possess."

Marguerite had hoped that he would not ask, although she had indeed divined frightening images as she slept.

"Great Shaman, thou art wise," she admitted. "I was awakened by a spirit that gnawed within me, and I called out. Lord Roxton held me and made me say what I felt. Like you, I think those drums signaled human sacrifice. But I lay and thought, and I believe that not all of the missing have been slain, I think that we should go to where we think the drums sounded, and see what daylight may show us. We are well armed, and you have 20 men. But I fear to take the Royal women with us. Assai and Sa'eera should stay here with Veronica and Ned while we search for what the jungle may tell us. What say you, Man of Much Wisdom, Man Who Speaks With the Gods?" She was careful to inject no irony into her praise words, and he sensed her sincerity.

"It may be argued that we should return the girls to Jacoba, and ask for more warriors before we search," he reasoned, "But if there are evil men about, we may well be ambushed if we go to the village, anyway. Here, Sa'eera and Assai will be behind the electric fence, and Mr. Malone has guns. Veronica is a skilled archer. Let it be as you say. Lord Roxton? Professor Challenger?"

The two men agreed with Xma'Klee, but Finn demurred, asking Xma'Klee if he would be offended to hear the words of a woman, who loved Sa'eera and Assai. He nodded for her to speak, and she continued, "I think we should leave the girls here, but I think we should get off the trail and scout it from behind, to see if we can find signs that we are being watched, or that an ambush is being set. Maybe we can get behind any attackers and shoot them first. If we find none, then let us sound our drums, asking that Jacoba send more warriors to meet us before we approach where the ceremony was held last night. I think I know a rocky outcropping that they may have set up camp in." She told them where she meant, and Xma'Klee nodded.

"Woman Who Kills, you speak wisely," the shaman agreed. "Clearly, being so close to George Challenger has given you insight beyond your female intelligence. You are fortunate to have such a mate who learns well from you, George. Let us do as Finn says. If the men wonder, we will say that the idea was Lord Roxton's or mine." He was quite serious: the Zanga would have more confidence if they thought a man had conceived the plan, although it was obviously valid, no matter who had thought of it. At such times, Marguerite and the other women had to make an effort to restrain themselves from saying anything that would anger the male superiority complex that was at the core of the primitive Zanga mind. In acknowledging the excellence of her plan, Xma'Klee was actually being gallant, for a man of his kind. In truth, even many white men of that day would have ridiculed a military plan known to have come from a woman. Fortunately for harmony in the Treehouse, Malone, Roxton, and Challenger all acknowledged the intelligence of their women, and in fact, considered themselves fortunate to have clever companions who were also charming. They had spent enough time on the Plateau to recognize that some women were far smarter than many males gave them credit for, and not just where household issues and romance were involved. Challenger, for one, never forgot that he would have died, had Finn not known how to give him her blood via transfusion when he had nearly perished from drinking one of his experiments. She stood high in his esteem, and not just for the way she looked when she sauntered past him, wearing next to nothing, when they were alone and she wanted his attention. Of course, that also appealed to him about her...

Agreed, the party finished breakfast, and as they cleaned up, Xma'Klee summoned his signaler, who brought out a Zanga drum that Veronica had been given many years ago. He beat out a message to their village, saying that they would stalk the strangers, and asking that reinforcements meet them before they proceeded to the place where they believed a terrible ceremony to have been conducted during the night.

In time, Jacoba responded, agreeing to have a party of fifty men trek to the rendezvous point. From there, they would screen the jungle in search of clues and strangers, and then return to the Treehouse to escort the Royal women home. In the meantime, as these Zanga went forth, the Treehouse group would veer off the trail, trying to thwart any potential ambush.

As they prepared to depart, Finn took John Roxton aside and suggested that one of them carry the Bergmann submachine gun that they'd appropriated from Avery Burton's dead thugs. (See, "A Night in the Lost World" on this board.) So it was that she left her usual rifles, and took the 9mm automatic weapon and a heavy bag of spare loaded magazines. She still wore her Smith & Wesson .38, and her belt also carried the small Bowie knife that Roxton had forged for her just before the last Christmas. She felt well armed, if a bit dramatic, and flashed her impish grin when Roxton took her aside and reminded her to fire the Bergmann in short bursts if she had to use it. "Don't just hold the trigger down and let it run like Marguerite's mouth," he teased. "That uses up ammunition far too quickly, and most of your shots would miss." They laughed, but Finn was sobered when he handed her three Mills bombs that Ned called hand grenades. Roxton and Challenger also took three each.

"I'm not giving Marguerite any grenades," Roxton quipped as his woman joined them. "She's 'bombastic' enough as is." But he pulled her to him, and embraced her, kissing her mouth to keep it from saying what she probably would have had he not covered her lips in time. Taken by surprise, Marguerite was blushing so furiously and with such pleasure when he unhanded her, that she simply grinned and held her tongue as the others chuckled at Roxton's humor.

Challenger summoned the elevator and they rode down, the Zanga drummer trying to hide his fear of this contraption that lifted men unnaturally into trees.

And, so, the hunt began. Roxton felt like mounting his horse and riding to the hounds until he was reminded of other times that he had put Mills bombs in his pockets and gone in search of his fellow men to kill. This felt like Flanders, all over. Not fun...

CHAPTER SIX

They moved off the trail as soon as they were shielded by the jungle, concerned that the Treehouse might have been located by the enemy. It sat high in a huge tree, surrounded by a wide clearing, intended to provide good vision and a killing field if they were attacked. But these advantages became a disadvantage, in that the open space also allowed an enemy to become aware of them more easily...

Roxton and Finn spoke as one, running into each others' words, saying that an ambush might be planned to happen very soon, an enemy assuming that they would ease caution as they were so close to home. Thus, they swung off 150 yards to the east, following a little trail left by deer and peccary. They moved softly, in pairs, the Roxtons first, the Challengers following 20 yards behind, to allow maneuvering room if attacked.

They had come armed mainly for battle with human foes. Their side arms were the same as usual, but Challenger was the only one with a heavy rifle, suitable for really large game (not found in South America) or dinosaurs. His .375 H&H Magnum was a magazine rifle built by Holland & Holland on a Magnum Mauser action. It lacked some of the smashing close range power of his .450 double rifle, but had greater cartridge capacity, and longer range. And it still had enough punch to brain a Tyrannosaur if need be... Roxton carried a Lee-Enfield .303 that was among his spare rifles, being, in fact, one that he had used in France and Belgium in the late war. (British officers could then buy rifles and revolvers "Out of Stores", for their own use.) Marguerite had her .303 sporter made by re-stocking a Lee-Enfield, so the Roxtons used the same rifle ammunition. They had loaded their magazines with 174 grain soft nosed bullets that would deck the smaller raptors or a jaguar with aplomb, and might even kill the large carnivorous dinosaurs with a lucky brain shot, although "solid", full-jacketed bullets would be preferred for that. A human foe or a deer would be easy kills for the .303, which was popular in Canada and in British Africa for game as large as moose, or sable antelope. And, Finn had the nasty Bergmann submachine gun, the first item of its kind to be fielded by a military power, several years before the celebrated American Thompson gun reached the market. It was heavy for a girl to carry, but she liked its firepower at short jungle ranges.

As they slunk quietly through the ferns and brush, small animals leapt away from them, some emitting alarm calls that they'd have to hope that the strangers wouldn't associate with humans in the area. Those alarm cries would probably not be the same if the animals had seen a puma or an ocelot...Roxton knew that Indian monkeys, langurs, had different alarm calls for snakes, leopards, and tigers.

Suddenly Roxton, who was leading, stopped, holding up a hand to signal a halt. He knelt and examined a soft spot in the dirt, just off the trail. He motioned to Finn to come forward, and when she had, he indicated a human track, one of the "new" sandals.

"I think the trail has also been brushed off here," he cautioned. She nodded, and walked a few feet forward, intently studying the contours of the ground and whether any blades of grass had been broken. She saw tiny marks left by the leafy branch that had served as a broom, and showed these to John Roxton, who agreed.

"These people went past here," he whispered to Marguerite and Challenger, "probably within the last hour. This is where they passed on the way to the main trail. I'll wager a glass of good Cognac brandy that they're set up ahead, to pick us off, or at least to see what we're doing." All nodded.

They swung off the trail now, moving very slowly and carefully, in line abreast, weapons ready, pausing often to listen. It was well that they did this, for they soon heard muffled voices, and suddenly, the unmistakable scent of cigarette smoke assaulted their nostrils. The time for battle was close at hand! And an enemy that smoked cigarettes might also have firearms!

Assai and Veronica were on the veranda of the Treehouse having lemonade when they heard several shots from the edge of the deep forest, just beyond the tree line, where the jungle swallowed up the trail. Then, as Sa'eera came out with Malone, there was a muffled "bump, bump, bump, bump" noise that puzzled everyone.

Again, rifle shots, then the other thumping sound. Suddenly, Sa'eera brightened and exclaimed, "That's Finn's little machinegun that shoots pistol bullets! I heard her and John testing it on my last visit. The trees must be muffling the sound! They must be in trouble." She raised a hand to her mouth in fear.

"I think she's right," conceded Ned Malone. "I'd better get a rifle in case whatever is happening comes our way. Our friends may be retreating. They aren't that far away!" And he went in for the Springfield .30/06 which he'd used successfully on the expedition to Xochilenque a few short months past. He also handed Veronica her bow and a quiver of arrows.

Assai looked meaningfully at Sa'eera. "Little Mother (for Sa'eera, being her father's wife was technically one of her mothers), "do you still have that sling that you, of course, never had? The one that I'm not supposed to know about? If you get it ready, I swear that I will see nothing, and if you have to kill someone with it, I feel sure that it can be credited to Veronica."

Sa'eera blanched. So, her husband's daughter knew about her forbidden weapon, with which she had killed a headhunter about to strangle Finn on the return from Xochilenque!

"Assai, I have." She reached under her sarong and produced the cloth sling. "I have some lead balls to throw from it. I'll get them. Remember, you have seen nothing, sister."

Assai nodded vigorously, and Sa'eera went for her luggage and returned with a dozen lead projectiles, cast for her by Lord Roxton.

Ned and Veronica assured the Zanga girls that they would "not see" the young Royal with a weapon, that being forbidden for females of their tribe.

"Anyway," observed Veronica," Ned or I will kill anyone who gets over the electric fence. You can be ready, just in case, but you won't need the sling."

Assai squeezed her friend and in-law's arm and smiled at her. "Your secret is safe with me, Sa'eera. Just be ready with the sling, if needed."

There came a sudden flurry of rifle shots, then the "bump, bump, bump" sounds, as Finn fired a short burst from the Bergmann. Suddenly, there was a loud "CRUMP!" from a stand of trees just down the edge of the small trail, and three strange Indians ran out, one holding a flopping arm.

"Stop!" yelled Veronica. One of the Indians paused, aiming a bow at her, and Ned triggered the Springfield rifle. At the shot, the man lurched and fell in his tracks.

"One down," muttered Ned, cycling the rifle's bolt to load a fresh cartridge into the chamber.

"Good shot, Honey," said Veronica to her betrothed. She tracked the second unwounded Indian, and loosed an arrow. This hit the man in the stomach and he collapsed but tried to stand. Ned ended his life with a second shot. The third man, arm still flapping uselessly, tried to run for cover. Finn stepped out from the jungle and raised the Bergmann, but a Zanga warrior fired first, with a Mauser 7mm military rifle taken from some former rebel Zanga who had obtained the rifles from slavers now dead. The bullet took the fleeing Indian in the back of the head, and his brains flew out the top of his cranium as he dropped onto the hard earth.

Half an hour later, the whites and Xma'Klee were back in the Treehouse, with a wounded Indian from the party that had attacked them. They explained that the loud crumping noise had been a grenade thrown by Roxton, and that it had not only maimed the man who had run out with a disabled arm; it had killed two others and probably wounded another, who had escaped, trailing drops of blood. Two had fallen to Marguerite and one to Finn's Bergmann. Other enemy casualties were uncertain, as they had scattered, fighting a running battle. Three Zanga had fallen, with two more wounded. They were being cared for below, by their fellows, who had deployed in defensive positions around the Treehouse.

As Roxton watched with a drawn revolver, Challenger cleaned and bandaged the injured savage's leg, where an arrow from a Zanga had gone through his left thigh.

Xma'Klee questioned him harshly, but the man turned to him with a puzzled expression on his face, and said something in a tongue that was foreign to everyone else. He looked sullen and defiant. He seemed to be a mestizo, mixed Latin and Indian, although dressed as an Indian.

Finn had set the Bergmann aside, well out of reach. Now, she walked over to the man and demanded of him in perfect Portuguese who he was and why his people had attacked them.

He looked at her in shock, mumbled in the same language that he would tell her nothing, and that it was unseemly for a woman to have guns and fight. Were the Treehouse men mice that they allowed her to fight at their side?

She replied coldly that if he wanted to save himself pain, he had better answer her questions. "Otherwise," she continued, still in Portuguese, "the Zanga will torture you until you talk, and we whites will lift no hand to stop them."

He gave her a sullen, defiant look and said nothing.

Suddenly, Finn brightened. "George," she called to her mentor and lover, "do you still have that beaker of stuff you made up a couple of days ago that you said was a truth drug?"

"By Jove, I have," he answered, a look of glee crossing his face. "Tell this worthy that I'm going to get some medicine to prevent him becoming infected." And he ran down to the lab, as Finn told the others, in English, of course, what to expect after the man had drunk the solution to which she referred. It was a potion that they had blended to give a sick Indian relief from pain, and it had. But it also loosened his tongue, and he had babbled so much that Challenger had joked about the effect. Now, perhaps, forcing the attacker to drink the same solution might cause him to ramble usefully..

"How did you know this creep spoke Portuguese, Finn?" Ned wanted to know.

She told him it had just been a hunch, based on something about his features and eye motions. "This guy isn't all Indian, "she noted, "and Brazilians often speak that language even far from cities. I'm glad that he understood me. We should be able to get him babbling soon after George gets a dose of that medicine into him."

The enemy warrior looked keenly at Finn. "Tell me," he said, "what manner of woman are you? You are beautiful, yet your man lets you go armed, and fight. Do you not serve him as other women serve their men? How much did he pay for you; what was your father's price?"

Finn kept a straight face, ignoring Marguerite's grin, for the brunette woman also spoke Portuguese, as she spoke many other languages.

"My man is a great shaman, and my father was pleased that he should desire me," she told him, "but my price was high. I cost many steel arrowheads, much honey, and 30 goats. But I honor my man, and strive to serve him fully, in all ways that I can. I will soon bear him sons, who will be great warriors and who will also study medicine that they may follow in their father's path. You are fortunate, for he has powerful drugs that will keep your wound from becoming infected. He has gone to get some from his medicine room, where he works great magic. The Zanga shaman here would not treat you; he does not care if you die. He is very angry that you have stolen some of his people."

The man turned to Marguerite. "Can this female speak our common tongue?"

Finn glanced at her friend, but Marguerite answered on her own. "Yes, I speak Portuguese and many other languages, but I did not know your own tribal words. My price was also high, for many men begged my father to let them have me. The man I love was too poor to buy me, though, so we crept away in the darkness of night to get married and live here. He is rich, but my price was very high, and we wanted one another with great passion. His touch excites me, and I cannot help myself; I writhe in ecstasy when he looks upon me with lust. I am eager to serve his needs. He is a kind man, and he feeds me well, and he does not beat me often, although I have an insolent mouth that sometimes says things that most men would not tolerate in their women. But I am trying to do better, for I love him dearly, and I do not wish him to send me away and buy other women. I wish to be the only mother of his children, when they come. He is a great warrior. Do not anger him. What people are you? I have not seen your like before."

Finn had started to snicker, but managed to turn it into coughing as the Indian stared suspiciously at her.

"I will not tell you who we are," he told Marguerite. "And I think you women are lying to me. What is your own tribe?"

"We lied, for you amused us by asking our price," Marguerite admitted. "Most of what we said other than our prices is true, though. Our men own us because they captured our hearts, for our people do not sell their women. Well, not as often as was once so, although some girls come with a dowry for the man who marries them. But that's the opposite of buying them! The blonde woman's man is indeed a great shaman, and he has gone for potent medicine, for he is kind and does not wish you to suffer, maybe even to lose your leg to gangrene. If you will not tell us how to find the missing Zanga, I suppose we will have to let their people have you. They will make you speak, under great pain. Ah, here is our shaman now, with that medicine for you to drink."

And Challenger poured some of the thick liquid into a cup and passed it to the Indian.

After being assured that the elixir was purely medicinal, the captive grudgingly drank it, commenting that if it did poison him, perhaps he would at least die faster than under Zanga torture.

"I had rather be slain by your potion than by this spider monkey's butchers," he said, shooting a hostile look at Xma'Klee.

That worthy, not conversant in Portuguese, asked Finn what he'd said, and Finn gave him a milder translation, knowing that "spider monkey" was probably a serious insult. She knew something of that species of ceboid, and its habits did not endear it to humans. Among other shortcomings in social grace, it was known for flinging fecal matter at people below the tree in which the monkey sat.

Xma'Klee made a snide remark in return, but Challenger swiftly suggested that he might like to join Finn and himself in the dining area for a cup of coffee while the elixir worked to loosen the prisoner's tongue. Xma'Klee had become rather fond of coffee, and agreed.

Challenger briefed Roxton, Marguerite, and the Malones on what he was doing and why, and Roxton promised to sit nearby, Webley service revolver in hand, to ensure that the intruder didn't attack or try to escape. Marguerite would make occasional comments to him, until it became evident that the man was becoming garrulous. She could then pretend little interest, and attempt to draw him out. She said that this should be easy, as men liked to brag about themselves to a woman, and she and the other women grinned, a little too smugly, thought Malone, who saw that Roxton had a similar reaction.

Sa'eera joined the others at the table near the kitchen, and Finn brewed coffee while Challenger and Veronica set out cups and saucers.

In time, the captive grew drowsy, but could still speak, and Marguerite began skillful probing. At times, she appeared impressed. On other issues, she pretended disbelief or ridiculed what the man said, causing him to elaborate on his claims. He rambled, but eventually told her most of what they wanted to know. And what he said chilled their blood when she called everyone in and related what she had learned.

This savage and his fellows served a leader who was clearly a ruthless villain with delusions of grandeur, and espoused a religion that was one of the grimmest that Marguerite had encountered. She winced internally as she related what she had learned, including what had happened in the intruders' camp the night before.

As everyone listened and asked questions, they forgot to watch the Indian as intently as they should have, and when Roxton looked away for a moment, the man sprang to his feet and dashed for Xma'Klee's spear, which was leaning against the wall 20 feet away.

Roxton spun and shot, the bullet striking the rattlesnake cult man through the waist and staggering him, the heavy lead .455 bullet having considerable wallop at close range.

Finn, Challenger, and Malone all drew their revolvers, but the staggering man didn't attempt to charge them. Instead, he turned toward the open window, and stumbled quickly to it and over the edge, calling out a curse on them as he fell. His voice was abruptly stilled as they heard his body crash to the ground.

The Treehouse dwellers rushed to the elevator and joined the Zanga sentries below in examining the man, whose head was twisted at an impossible angle for a living person. His right leg was also bent in a way that made it obvious that it was broken. His sightless eyes stared into the sky.

"Well, he certainly recovered his wits sooner than I'd thought he would," mused Challenger. "I should have given him more of the drug, but was afraid that he'd simply go to sleep and not be able to answer our questions."

"I think I learned about all that he was going to say," observed Marguerite. "Maybe it's best that this happened. We'd have had to give him to the Zanga, and his end would have been something I wouldn't like to think about."

The Zanga warriors, ordered by XmaKlee, took the body into the jungle and left it some distance from the Treehouse. Scavengers would dispose of it, and he had no intention of burying the man honorably, or cremating him as he would have done for a fallen companion of his own tribe.

The explorers and their friends went back up in the elevator, and Veronica filled their cups as they discussed what Marguerite had learned from the doomed enemy warrior.

"This is one of the most awful tales that I have ever heard, "Marguerite began, " and it is imperative that we find and defeat these rattlesnake cult people. They will play havoc on the Plateau unless destroyed, and they are a menace to all tribes whom they may meet, and that certainly includes us."

"I never thought of myself as a 'tribesman'," Ned quipped. The others looked at him with irritation, except for Finn, whose own sense of humor was rather droll and sometimes waggish. She grinned, and shook an admonitory finger at him for his impudence. Ned smiled back, which miffed Marguerite.

"You two can laugh about this," she warned, "but not for long. Wait until you hear what's involved." And she told a summary of horrors that the man had bragged of committing, first in the rural areas and jungle off the Plateau, then recently, against the Zanga captives whom they had seized that week.

The Golden Rattlesnake was the leader of the cult, which was composed of hardened criminals from not only Brazil, but from Columbia and Venezuela. They had taken refuge in the jungle to avoid justice, then had insinuated themselves into a tribe of Indians who worshipped a golden-hued subspecies of tropical rattlesnake. Through brute force and raw ferocity, the head thug had deposed the shaman leading the religious cult, and had appeased his new followers by leading them on a rampage through nearby villages in search of loot and women. The clan had bred with some of their female captives and over a 50- year span, they grew until they had become a plague in the eyes of neighboring tribes. A coalition of villages had driven them away, and they had wandered for over a year, taking what victims they could, living for a few weeks at a time in a camp before moving on.

By now, the blond son of the founder, who had taken a native girl as mate, was the Golden Rattlesnake. He had been trained by a junior shaman who had thrown his lot in with the bandits, and the group was now thoroughly corrupted and indoctrinated with the gospel of this horrible faith in a rattlesnake god. Along the way, they had used selective breeding to hatch snakes of even more vivid hue as their god's emissaries on Earth. The newer hatches were deep golden colored, although the darker rhombs on the backs and the neck stripes could still be easily distinguished against the background tones. These snakes were not only golden; they had been bred to produce particularly virulent venom.

The cult practiced human sacrifice, the victims perishing through envenomation by the tribe's snakes, which were carried in baskets. The deceased savage had bragged of how they alowed the snakes to bite tied-down unfortunates, then chanted and drank an intoxicating beverage they distilled while the sacrificial designate died in terrible pain before the heart stopped or breathing ceased. The venom was a potent neurotoxin, but still had some hemolytic qualities that dissolved blood vessels, as with the more northerly species of most rattlesnakes. The victims squirmed in agony, and if they did not die within a couple of hours, they were beheaded.

This is how one Zanga man had already died, and another would be sacrificed soon. The missing women might be sacrificed, but one was pretty, and would likely be kept as a slave or given as a prize to a warrior who distinguished himself by taking other captives.

The group nearby was only the vanguard of their tribe, and others would soon arrive. Their goal was to frighten and assimilate local Indians and swell their ranks by offering a semblance of power (coupled with superstition) and material gains. In time, they sought to rule the Plateau, about which they had heard many legends. The cult was now some 500 members strong, and a real threat to most they encountered.

"These vile creatures have to be dealt with, and soon," Marguerite continued, "or no one here will be safe. The leader saw Veronica, Sa'eera, and Finn, and wants them for his own harem, their blonde hair appealing to him as exotic and maybe giving him a chance to breed blonde children from you girls, which would enhance his goldenhood, or whatever he calls it. See why he's dangerous?"

Veronica, Sa'eera, and Finn looked grimly at one another, and the Treehouse girls' men reached out and took each by the hand, promising that they would be protected against this demon.

"We must all surely work to see that these people get their just due, which is the opportunity to meet their celestial rattlesnake god in whatever they consider their heaven to be," pronounced Challenger. "Sa'eera, Xma'Klee: I feel sure that Jacoba will wish to join us in war against them, especially as they have their eye on Sa'eera."

Sa'eera sat stunned, hand to mouth. She darted her eyes around the group, and Veronica walked over and put her arm around the young queen. "Darling, we'll protect you, and see these creeps off as soon as possible." Everyone nodded, and told Sa'eera that she was under their protection until she could be returned to her village, where Jacoba would no doubt assign extra guards to accompany her whenever she left the royal compound.

"Let us go now to where you think these heathen camped and slew our brother last night," suggested Xma'Klee. "We will recover what we may of him, and escort the queen home. Then, we will sweep the jungle for these animals until we have slain all of them and their pet snakes." He was coldly furious, and his scowl was sobering to behold.

"Shall we leave the women here?" asked Roxton. "I'm uneasy about that, as dangerous as taking them with us would be."

"I'm going with George," announced Finn. "I'm not letting him risk his life without me to help, and the last time Marguerite and I were left behind 'for our safety', that bastard Avery Burton took us before we knew he was there. My nerves may be a little rattled on the trail, but not as much as if I'm left here. George, please? Let me come."

Challenger nodded. "I'll be worried sick for you, but at least, I'll know where you are and what's happening. We may also need your considerable marksmanship skill when we find these varlets." He took her hand, and the Challengers looked into one another's eyes and liked what they saw there. Finn stood and sat on George's lap, where the couple sat with their arms around one another.

Ned Malone asked Veronica what she wanted to do, especially considering that the Treehouse was her home, and someone should defend it. "But the two of us won't be enough if those jerks come in force," he observed. "I don't even know how to use the machinegun. I never thought we might actually need it. It's just been something for John and Finn to play with."

"As much as I detest leaving our home open," Roxton grumbled, "I think we'd better stay together and rely on the electric fence to protect the Treehouse, and just hope that they don't shoot flaming arrows at it!"

"Well, I'm certainly not going to sit here and wait for them to make the first move," snapped Marguerite. "Roxton, you're going to have me along, like it or not."

John Roxton allowed himself a faint smile. "Not to worry, Darling. I've no intention of leaving you behind. I'd be worried sick. Anyway, if matters become desperate, I can always turn you loose on the enemy. Just have one of your tantrums, and they'll flee in terror." He smiled and took her hand to assure her that he was joking. She squeezed back, and blushed slightly as she thrilled to the knowledge and bliss of his love.

"Well, that's that, then," proclaimed Challenger. "Let's get ready for a trip of a few days. If we don't find the buggers, we'll come back here and wait for them, or keep searching nearby until we locate them. Until they're dealt with, none of us goes anywhere without company, especially the women, and particularly, the blonde ones!"

"I'm blond," mused Malone. "Maybe they'll be after me, too."

Everyone groaned, and Veronica hugged him and said, "They won't want you, Honey. You're more golden than their boss. He'd see you as his competition." She leaned down and tickled him, and Ned gasped with laughter.

"I AM his damned competition," Malone said. "But I already have Veronica, so I've already won the contest!"

"You say the sweetest things, Ned," teased his love.

"Well, not to cast gloom on the larking about," intoned Roxton, "but let's get ready to go kill some people who richly deserve it, before they do any more damage."

They stirred, moving to stock their packs with added food, and gathering more canteens, medical supplies, and ammunition. The Treehouse crew was going to war.

CHAPTER SEVEN

About four that afternoon, they reached the location where they suspected the enemy had camped and performed obscene sacrificial rites.

Over a mile away, they saw vultures and small pterodactyls circling the rocky enclosure, with others occasionally lumbering skyward, looking sated, as if having fed on something below.

They spread out and approached cautiously, but found the area deserted of life, save for the scavengers. The skeletal remains of the slain Zanga man were unidentifiable, but his height seemed right to be one of the missing men, said Xma'Klee, and a dirty headband lying nearby had belonged to this man.

Xma'Klee ordered that the bones be gathered, so that they could be interred after burning at the village, giving the dead warrior's family the emotional satisfaction of a funeral.

Roxton watched the faces of the men recovering the bones, and saw Finn doing the same. He hoped that he didn't look as wan, yet furious, as she did. Marguerite came to stand beside him, and took his hand.

"John," she said, "I have seen pure evil too often in this life, and this is as raw and plain an example of it as I hope to encounter in the remainder of my days. I sense awful things here: Xma'Klee said that he does, also. I'm glad that we're facing this together, though. Whoever the Golden Rattlesnake may be, he is an ominous entity in human form, and he must die, or more horrible things will happen."

Challenger heard, as did Malone. The latter asked how this was worse than the sacrifices of the Tecamaya that had so nearly claimed them in Xochilenque. (See the Fic, "The Crystal Skull".) Finn heard him, pricked up her ears and walked over to hear the answer.

"I can't define it, and it may just be that the Tecamaya believed their legends that they needed to feed their gods human hearts. There was true nastiness there, too," Marguerite admitted. "But this seems even more degenerate, and on a more personal scale. I think the Golden Rattlesnake made up his religion and veneered it over the local stories as he and his father spread their vile culture. It reeks of power and wretched cruelty more than it does of simple savage faith. I feel hollowness within myself as I see this and I know that I need to become dispassionate and kill any of these Rattlesnake Warriors we can, just as if we were crushing spiders. I don't even "feel" them as being worthy of human sympathy, let alone want to treat them as worthy opponents. They are lower than the bellies of the reptiles they worship!" Her face was white, and she spoke with cold rage.

All nodded, looking introspective, and saying little. Finn caught Veronica's eye, and even the jungle beauty who was their hostess had a hard look. Normally, Veronica could rationalize, and feel some empathy for those whom they fought. Now, she was clearly uncomfortable, but also truly angry.

Finn stepped next to her and touched her arm comfortingly. "We'll get these bastards, Vee," she promised. "Don't let them get to your psyche."

Veronica nodded, so dismayed and bitter at this dangerous perversion that she was temporarily deprived of speech.

Having searched the area for clues, the party set out to return the Royal women to Jacoba's kraal, where they would be safe, and to ask the chief how to proceed against the Rattlesnake cult. The only thing certain was that Jacoba would order that no effort be spared until his land was purged of these monsters in human skin.

That evening, the explorers were given huts in the Zanga village, but declined, saying that their tents would be cooler. They suspected that they might also be freer of vermin than an Indian hut!

They joined the Royal family and Xma'Klee and his two favorite wives at dinner. Enroute to the village, they had killed three deer and caught some fish, and there was a good selection of vegetables, by native standards. They had brewed coffee, which scalded Jacoba's tongue. Xma'Klee looked away from Jacoba, and Marguerite saw him wink conspiratorially at her. She had begun to realize that the Paramount Shaman had a wicked sense of humor.

Now, dinner finished, they had more coffee and talked about the Golden Rattlesnake and his tribe.

Xma'Klee and Jacoba turned to Marguerite and asked, "Sorceress, what do you devine of this man who leads these evil people? Why do they do these things? Is it only their religion? What drives them?"

She saw that all were turned to her, including Assai and Sa'eera, who were present, along with all of Jacoba's wives. (Assai, of course, was his daughter.)

Marguerite thought, then said, " Great Shaman; Royal Jacoba: I have thought long on this, and I have consulted my deepest instincts. All I can think of is that these are evil men. Some men kill for glory. Some slay for love; others for riches. And some kill for pleasure and for the sense of power that they derive from it. I think that the Golden Rattlesnake and his kind kill for unholy pleasure. They are devils, and we must pursue them as such."

All nodded, then talked of tactics most likely to succeed. Other, more pleasant conversation ensued, with the women soon retiring to view and handle new cloth and jewelry made by the king's wives and their friends. The men talked of crops, war, women, and hunting. Roxton thought wryly that such talk was universal among males, but here, he was spared speculation about the stock market and organized sports. To the Zanga, "cricket" was an insect used for fish bait, not a game...

In time, all sought the restoration of sleep, double sentries having been posted. Jacoba reminded all warriors to have their weapons ready, in event of a night attack.

Marguerite told Roxton that she was indeed concerned about a nocturnal ambush.

"Um," he conceded. "But I don't think it's really likely here. The village is too strong for the number of men that the Golden Rattlesnake has available right now."

"I wasn't thinking of him," she said and laughed as she nuzzled his neck and placed his right hand on her breast. "But, I'd be very open to a night attack, if you wanted to have your way with me. I'm all naked and vulnerable." She caressed him intimately, and found that he wasn't as tired as she had been afraid that he might be. And so it came to pass that she was "attacked" by night...

In the tent next door, Challenger and Finn paused in their own lovemaking to listen to the noises from the Roxtons' quarters. "Wow, Genius," Finn snickered, "Those two are at it again. Whatever will we do with them?"

Challenger chuckled. "I have no idea what to do about them, but come here, and I'll show you what I think Roxton is doing to her about now." He grinned, and she saw his teeth flash dully in the shadows.

"I can't 'come here,'", she replied. "I AM here. But show me what you think John is doing to M. Then, I'll show you what I think she's doing to HIM. I guarantee that you'll like it, the way that I'll do it. If you don't, tell me, and we'll start over."

She didn't have to "start over." Challenger was, in fact, quite delighted with her interpretation of what she thought the Roxtons might be doing to one another.

Ned and Veronica lay together and listened to the small sounds coming from the other tents. "Gosh," he reflected. "I wonder if we sound that way to the others." He flushed slightly from embarrassment.

"Don't worry, Honey," said Veronica. "They have better things to do than listen to us. Just don't do that thing you do down there that might make me really scream. People would think I'd been stung by a scorpion!" She giggled, and rolled Ned over to taste his lips. If he was kissing her, she said, she wouldn't have to hear him mumble about what their friends were doing with their partners.

"Partners", she reflected. "I don't think I really like that term. Sounds too much like people at a law firm."

"Not in this application," Ned rejoined. "This isn't how lawyers screw people."

She laughed out loud, unable to help herself. Sometimes, Ned Malone was truly funny. It was one of the reasons why she loved him.

Nearby, Challenger heard, and quipped that the Malones seemed to "view sex as a laughing matter." Finn snorted, and jabbed him playfully in the ribs. Soon, they were paying no more attention to the others, being far too occupied on their own.

Time passed. The moon slid slowly across the brilliantly starlit sky, and an owl hooted, unheard except by the sentries and the village dogs. A tyrannosaur roared, answered by the rattle of a jaguar that was much nearer. The sentries grasped their spears and looked to one another for reassurance. Dark spirits roamed in the night, too, they believed, as if these predators weren't enough to test men's' courage. The watch fires burned, and most of the village slept.

Two miles away, the Golden Rattlesnake and his chief lieutenant spoke softly, conniving who knew what devilry...They thought of what they planned, and shivered in ecstasy as they contemplated their success. They felt sure of continued victory, and the leader quivered mentally as he contemplated additional sacrifices and about ravishing the three blonde girls who had drawn his attention. He thought that he might begin with Sa'eera, who walked like she might be a talented dancer. Doubtless, she could also squirm well in other activities!

CHAPTER EIGHT

Dawn broke, and within an hour, the village began rustling as people roused. The watch was changed, and soon, smells of cooking food rose to the sky, tempting pterodactyls to hover, hoping for an opportunity to seize something without receiving an arrow for their intrusion.

In the enclosure used by the Treehouse crew, Marguerite snarled, "Quit nudging me, Roxton, you idiot! It's you that I'm trying to dream about, and you're having too much fun in my fantasies to want me to wake up."

Roxton chuckled, but left her alone, dressed, and went out in search of coffee. If she smelled that, Marguerite would forsake her warm sleeping bag and warmer dreams to get a cup.

He found Veronica up, stretching to work out the kinks in her muscles.

"Hey, John. Sleep well?" she asked. "You two sounded like you were in pain or something, for a while." She leered at him, knowing how easily he could be embarrassed by a woman teasing him.

Instead of blushing, he stared boldly back and told her that at least, he and Marguerite knew that sex wasn't a laughing matter. He had had the same thought that Challenger had had, and had been waiting to twit her about it, although the easily embarrassed Ned Malone had been his intended target. He had to explain what he meant, Veronica not having registered that others had heard her laugh and that they would remember something so trivial. Now, she told Roxton Malone's joke about lawyers not screwing people the way that certain persons were screwing at the time, and Roxton threw back his head and laughed, himself. "Our Ned is getting to be quite ribald in his old age," he observed, still chuckling.

"Help me build a cooking fire," Veronica said, and they soon had eggs and tapir bacon and toast cooking, with the aroma of coffee wafting on the breeze.

"I smell that, John," Marguerite called. "Don't drink the whole bloody pot before I stir! Give me a few minutes to primp, and I'll join you, you lucky lout!" But she smiled as she looked for her clothes.

Challenger and Finn heard, and he told her that they had better get up, or Marguerite would "drink the whole bloody pot", herself.

"Who cares?" mumbled Finn. "Let Her Highness drink coffee; I have you. Which is better?" But she reluctantly rolled aside after kissing her man good morning.

When all were assembled and were eating, Assai came and asked to join them. Sa'eera soon straggled in, saying that Jacoba sent greetings and would hold a war council in two hours.

The Zanga girls accepted plates and fresh-squeezed orange juice, with Sa'eera asking for coffee, also. She had found this new beverage to her liking.

The girls all decided to bathe after breakfast in a "safe" pool at the river, where crocodiles and caiman and other denizens of the jungle waters seldom came, and where a current kept the pool clear and the stone bottom could be easily seen, lest snakes slip in unnoticed. They began chattering about shampoo, what to wear that day and other female things. The men agreed to form a protective detail, and wait just out of sight of the pool, lest danger intrude. They could then clean up, themselves, with Finn and Marguerite and one of their own waiting, rifles in hand, as the other men washed and shaved. Then, the man who had guarded the others would take his turn. Challenger offered to be last, partly so he could discuss a lab project with Finn as they waited, and he wanted to run some ideas past the women about a new, improved shower facility at the Treehouse. Moreover, he wanted to savor another cup of coffee before he began the day in earnest.

In due time, all the men (and a few curious women who were tolerated because they knew how to make the warriors feel important and virile with their admiring looks and praise) gathered in front of Jacoba's royal compound. It was decided that three war parties would strike out in different directions, hoping to cross the trail of the invaders. If they found the direction the enemy was going, they would then send a drum message to the others, so that all could converge on the foe's likely line of march. Everyone agreed that this was the best idea available, and would cover the most territory.

The only women allowed in the war parties were the Treehouse ladies, who would be with their men in the northernmost group. However, Jacoba saw to it that each party had some men with rifles, the 7mm Mauser military arms taken from the late slavers and the rebel Zanga encountered some months before. (See the Fic, "The Crystal Skull", not presently on the Net. Perhaps in future….)

The forces set out, leaving the remainder of the warriors to secure the village and guard the imperial family.

Before long, they stumbled across a path that showed the passage of men in the night. Xma'Klee and Roxton argued as to how long had passed since the footprints were made and some grass flattened, but they agreed that it had been within the past few hours.

They moved on, the lead elements extended in a skirmish formation, in case they came suddenly on the Rattlesnake's minions. Malone had been given the Bergmann, Roxton and Finn reminding him to aim a little low, and to fire in short bursts. They made sure that he could change magazines easily, and hoped that he wouldn't fumble reloading in the heat of battle. Finn set the selector switch for semi auto firing, telling Ned that he would hit better that way than if he tried spraying with full automatic fire.

"You're looking after my best female friend and virtual sister, Ned," she reminded. "Don't screw up."

Malone gave her a look that made her apologize. "Ned, I'm sorry. I know she's your lady, too. Forgive me; I have a big mouth, sometimes." She saw from the corner of her eye Veronica's smile as she made amends for her remark. Veronica came over and embraced her, thanking her for the thought, and expressing confidence in her man.

Finn returned to her place between Challenger and Roxton, with Marguerite on Roxton's right. She cocked her Winchester .44 carbine, easing the hammer down on a live cartridge, so she need only thumb back the hammer to be ready to fire. Finn was glad that she no longer needed to rely on her old, weak crossbow and had friends. Even in times of danger like this, life was better for her here than it had been until Challenger had rescued her from her own time. Oh, yeah, she thought, remembering that morning: lying quietly on top of George was better than a whole pot of coffee! She snickered, prompting Roxton and Challenger to look her way. She blushed, telling them that she had just remembered something funny, and they shook their heads good humouredly. Roxton gestured to Xma'Klee, who was signaling the group to advance. They moved off, making as little noise as possible.

Some forty minutes later, the trail changed, leading more to the northeast, and showing that those leaving sign were moving at a faster pace. The Zanga trackers recognized the footprints of their kidnapped brethren in places, prompting excited talk. Obviously, this was where the enemy had gone, and they wanted to close and give battle and rescue their kin.

CHAPTER NINE

Shortly after noon, the trail split, with one group of the foe branching off to the left. They seemed to have the captives with them. The other group had continued on in the original course.

This caused a quandary: should they chase the party that held their own, or seek the larger group?

Xma'Klee decreed that they send trackers after the enemy that had the captives, and the rest of them would pursue the main force, believing that it was likely that the Golden Rattlesnake was leading this element. The scouts would join them if they saw where the enemy stopped with the captives, or withdraw to a safe distance and send drum signals.

A mile down the trail, and it was becoming familiar. Roxton looked at Finn, and called her and Challenger over to him.

"Recognize where we're headed?" he asked.

"Yes," snapped Marguerite. "Right for the Treehouse and my diamonds!"

Veronica had come up and heard Marguerite. She retorted, "Well, damn your diamonds, Honey! We're talking about my HOME! Just what the Hell is important here, anyway?"

"Ladies, please," interjected Challenger. "Our home and our valuables there, many essential for survival in this savage land, are at risk. If those varlets get through the electric fence, they will loot the premises. If not, they may simply shoot fire arrows into it. We must get there as soon as we can, without abandoning caution, in case of an ambush."

Roxton agreed, although he placed his hand on Marguerite's cheek to comfort her. He well knew the anguish her insecurity must be generating as she feared the loss of all that she had worked for. Finn saw, and took Marguerite's hand.

"It's okay, M.," she said. "If they find your diamonds, you can have some of my gold and jewels from Xochilenque. We stashed that stuff in the limestone cavern where the wine is, and they probably won't find it. But you hid those stones well. They won't get most of them."

"I'm more worried about my house and my parents' papers and all of our books and the weapons we don't have with us," Veronica complained. "We need that stuff and that's all I have to remind me of my family!" She looked agonized, and Ned Malone leaned over and kissed her and held her shoulder.

"We'll stop them, Veronica," he promised. "John, hadn't we better get there and look after our property?"

They formed a loose skirmish line, with Xma'Klee's best archers and several riflemen with them in the vanguard and moved swiftly though the cover toward home. All feared the worst, but there was no smoke in the sky, at least, indicating that the Treehouse wasn't being torched just yet.

They moved faster than they'd have liked, but kept noise to a minimum. The enemy ahead didn't hear them until they stumbled on the rear guard, left to watch the trail.

They realized they had found the foe when they walked over a rise and through some brush and stumbled on two sentries, who were clearly taken by surprise. They had been standing in a small clearing, talking, obviously not expecting to be ambushed by those whom they had come to seize or kill.

Roxton acted first, swinging up his service .303 and shooting a man as he lifted his bow. Finn fired next, her Winchester .44/40 dropping the second man as he turned to flee.

At the Treehouse, the Golden Rattlesnake heard the shooting and was stunned. He had arrived only moments before and had surrounded the Treehouse and shouted up to it, demanding that the occupants surrender or die. Now, those whom he had thought to take prisoner and add to his harem or to sacrifice were behind his own men, and killing them!

His men looked to him for guidance, and he stood, speechless. Seeing this, some ran on their own. Others demanded of him what they should do.

From the jungle behind them came yells and the rattle of the Bergmann submachine gun as Malone held down the trigger and sprayed the area where they were seeing the most motion in the trees. More rifle shots came, and his men left behind as a defense in depth came charging toward him, screaming that the Zanga and their white friends were upon them in force. They had tried to stand, but a group of Xma'Klee's men had struck their right flank and filled the air with arrows and with javelins cast from atlatls. They broke and fled toward their leader.

He tried to rally them, but the panic was too strong, and he turned to flee, himself. He called to them to scatter and meet him at their camp, where the remainder of their group was taking the captives.

As he disappeared into the foliage, Marguerite stepped out and saw him. She recognized his blond hair, which he wore long, and snapped off a shot that barely missed his head, and jolted him more than anything in his life had previously done. The sound of a rifle shot passing nearby is not the zing that it is in movies; it sounds like a firecracker as the bullet splits the sound barrier and the effect it has on those being fired on is dramatic. The Golden Rattlesnake ran as he had seldom run before!

The victorious explorers cleaned up the enemy they could see without intense pursuit, and assembled at the Treehouse. Several of the Zanga brought in baskets with buzzing rattlesnakes still in them.

Challenger looked at them with interest, and heard Finn say, "George...!" That one word carried more meaning than a whole volume, and he started guiltily and told her that he wouldn't try to save any of the reptiles.

Xma'Klee had the snakes emptied out, one by one, four of them, and had them despatched by axe or spear as they emerged from the baskets. The writhing bodies and severed heads were then thrown on a fire and consumed as the Zanga watched. Xma'Klee wanted everyone to see that they were fully mortal, as well as disposing of these dangerous serpents before someone was bitten.

Challenger explained to the others that even he had to concede that sometimes, practical considerations had to come before science. Finn leaned in and kissed him, giving him a look that helped to assuage his frustration at losing this "golden" opportunity to study the aberrant species.

"Genius, thank you," she said. "I couldn't stand it if you wanted to fool around with those things, and I wasn't looking forward to arguing about it."

He nodded, and joined the others as they discussed what they might do next.

"I don't fancy going up to bed tonight," said Roxton. "Those fellows may just regroup, and I don't want to be caught up there if they do."

"What of my people whom they hold?" demanded Xma'Klee? "I fear we have saved your home at their expense."

They decided to eat, and then leave some of their number at the Treehouse, concealed in the jungle, while the rest joined another party of Zanga, which could be summoned by drum beat, the shaman's group having a small -but-adequate signal drum with them. It was not a perfect solution, but they had to deal with the matter as best they could.

They summoned other Zanga, designating a large rock outcropping as a meeting place not far from where their scouts had split off from the main party to follow the group of Rattlesnake worshippers who had the prisoners.

Challenger, Finn, Marguerite, and Roxton remained with 15 Zanga to guard the Treehouse, while Ned Malone and his woman chose to accompany the main war party. Malone went up into the Treehouse and got his Springfield rifle, leaving the Bergmann with what Marguerite wryly called The Gun People, who would use it more effectively if the need arose. Ned had wasted a full magazine, spraying bullets indiscriminately without much fire control. Fortunately, the bullets snapping around them had done much to break the sole attempt of the enemy to form a countercharge when they tried.

Veronica got some female Zanga clothing, in case the women they sought to free had been stripped, and they took medicine, too. Who knew what treatment the missing tribespersons had endured at the hands of their vile captors?

Two hours later, the scouts saw the main war party approaching, and came out of hiding to brief Xma'Klee on their findings.

The smaller enemy detachment did indeed have the captives, and was camped only a mile away, having tied their prisoners to a heavy log as they began to prepare the evening meal. They had two baskets of rattlesnakes with them, as far as was known. Some stragglers from the group that had been at the Treehouse had drifted in, and the number of enemy was probably between 25 and 30. The time to attack was now, decided Xma'Klee and his senior war captain.

"Wouldn't we be better off waiting until all the other warriors drift in and we have them in the same place?" wondered Malone.

Veronica talked with a Zanga warrior she knew and was told that it was best to keep the enemy force from reassembling, if possible, and they needed to save their people soon, as there was no sure way to know what might happen next. They might be harmed as vengeance for the loss of the Treehouse raiders.

They slipped up on the enemy fairly easily, until one watchman saw their advance elements about 100 yards from the camp. He launched an arrow and cried out to his friends that the Zanga were upon them. Ned killed him with the Springfield before he could escape, then shot another who ran out from the foliage to see what the shot had been about.

The enemy was surprised and already demoralized from hearing the news of the Treehouse contingent. Some ran, while others tried to bargain for their lives by using the prisoners as hostages.

Xma'Klee pretended to talk, while sending his captain and some warriors around to the far side of the camp. The Malones went with this group, and soon poured a hail of arrows and bullets into the enemy. Miraculously, none of the captives was badly injured, although all were dirty and terrified.

They cut loose the Zanga prisoners, and Veronica took aside the prettiest girl, the only one of the captives evidently not designated for sacrifice. She needed the clothing that had been brought, and to speak with another woman and be comforted. This girl had been used recreationally by the Golden Rattlesnake and as a prize in a race and a spear-throwing contest that had amused the Snakemen. Her nerves were badly affected, and she shrank away form the males in the party, although one man was her brother. In time, she calmed, and Veronica talked gently to her, with Xma'Klee and her brother telling her that she had nothing to fear and that she was much missed by those who loved her. She calmed in time, but clearly would need counseling and much support from her friends and relatives in the village. The other captives offered effusive thanks for their rescue, and told much about their ordeal. All three women had been abused, but two had handled the issue better than the third, who had been a virgin when captured. The men were roughed up, but not seriously injured.

They said that the full strength of the Rattlesnakes was about 60 men, although fewer than half remained. The enemy were carefully checked, but were all dead...there remained none alive to question. The freed Zanga men were armed with captured weapons and vowed revenge on those who had abused them, and sacrificed their companion.

Xma'Klee sent 10 men to relieve those at the Treehouse, with Veronica and Ned Malone joining them. The idea was for the Treehouse crew to man their own defenses, probably sleeping in the Treehouse that night. The Zanga would camp nearby and try to avert an attack if one came.

It wasn't a perfect plan, but would probably suffice for the moment. Still, until the ringleader was killed, no one could rest easy, and others of the cult were known to be on the way to the Plateau. This adventure wasn't yet over, by any means.

The delegation of Zanga to the Treehouse brought the two snakes in the baskets, although no one could recall later why they had done so. When Veronica noticed, she declared that the Treehouse was off limits to all venomous reptiles, no matter how scientifically interesting they might be. The snakes were then unceremoniously dumped out and killed with machetes and spears.

Finn was talking to the Roxtons when she noticed Challenger bending low over one of the executed snakes, talking earnestly with Xma'Klee. She excused herself, and walked briskly to her man, took him by the coat sleeve and pulled him away. She looked firmly at Xma'Klee and admonished him not to let Challenger get too close to the writhing bodies of the snakes, and primly went back to her conversation with Marguerite.

Roxton looked over to the other men, and Challenger blushed and shuffled his feet in embarrassment. Xma'Klee looked amused, and all three men began laughing.

"She loves you, George!" teased Roxton, and Marguerite told him to be quiet; that she and Finn were talking. Then, she laughed, too, as Finn reddened and grinned, herself.

Dinner was rather solemn, none of the Treehouse crew being too sanguine about the chances that the enemy had permanently left the Plateau. In all likelihood, they would be back, and the Treehouse and all its occupants would be a prime target for revenge when the Rattlesnake clan returned.

The "family" decided to share watches, so that most could sleep for at least most of the night. Even with their Zanga allies watching on the ground, no one felt at ease without a sentry of their own. After midnight, they would stand two hour watches until dawn came. In fact, dawn was a prime time for attack, and they would need to be especially alert then. Not until the sun was well up would they be able to catch up on any lost sleep.

The Zanga beneath them had been loaned by Xma'Klee until he could send reliefs for them, but he had promised to try to keep warriors at the Treehouse for a week or so, unless they found and killed the entire known force of the foe.

Malone had the first watch, and he soon grew bored and paced restlessly. They had left a lamp burning on a table in the center of the room, so he had light. Ned soon sat down at the table and began writing in his journal. He drank coffee as he wrote, hoping to stay alert.

He was nearly due for relief when he saw a shadow against the drawn reed curtains. It wavered, but something was definitely there! He drew and cocked his Colt .45 automatic, and went to listen at the window. He was on high alert; sure that something menaced them, but yet too self concious to wake the others until he knew more. His heart pumped vigorously, and the blood hammered in his ears. Yes, there was something there! He had unquestionably heard a rustle that wasn't the breeze! He flexed his hand on the pistol, and then wiped his sweaty palm on his trousers. Then, the stairs squeaked...

Malone swung around, bringing up the gun... and found himself aiming it at Marguerite!

That lady saw him as she descended the staircase and went white with shock. She had opened her mouth to yell at him when he recognized her and lowered the gun. He further silenced her by motioning with a finger at his lips, then urging her with hand motions to come over and listen

She did, and he gestured to the shadow that was again before the veranda window. Marguerite turned pale again, and walked smartly to the gun rack to the right and took out her rifle. She cycled the bolt, loading a cartridge into the chamber. Damn! She thought. Whoever was out there had to have heard that noise, and it was clearly something mechanical, man made.

Marguerite went back to Malone and whispered, "Ned, what IS that?"

He shrugged, and then whispered back that she should be ready to shoot, and he would pull up the curtain. The look on her face made him hesitate.

"I'm getting Roxton. Stay alert!" And with that, she wheeled and went back upstairs, moving as quietly as she could.

Finn had gotten up to rouse Challenger, who had the next shift. She heard Marguerite and opened their door, pulling on George's shirt over her near nakedness. She usually slept in just panties, and sometimes, not even that much.

Marguerite quickly explained what was afoot, pulling Finn into her own room down the hall, where she woke Roxton, too. That hunter took in the sight of Finn, tried not to stare, and pulled on his pants. Marguerite primly turned Finn around in the interest of her man's modesty, or perhaps it was for her own modesty, she being a little jealous of which females got to see John Roxton "au naturelle!"

Roxton armed himself and Finn slipped back into her own room and roused Challenger. They got their guns, Challenger having taken his .450 rifle to their bedroom, as he often did, lest something big barge into the Treehouse by night.

The Roxtons went to help Malone, as Challenger dressed, and Finn scratched at Veronica's door.

When all were ready, Malone snatched at the rope that controlled the blinds, and swept up that barrier quickly. Something large recoiled as the blinds rushed up, and Challenger's flashlight beam fell on a big boa constrictor that had been trying to force its nose under the blinds.

"Hold your fire, everyone!," ordered Roxton. "I'll head-shoot it." And he did, his .45 automatic bullet snapping the snake's head back violently, as its mouth gaped at him, showing large, nasty teeth, back curved to prevent prey escaping their grasp.

The snake shuddered and writhed in grotesque contractions as Veronica ran up with a broom and heaved it over the edge of the fence. It must have been nine feet long, and was sinuously powerful.

"I didn't want that bastard bleeding all over my veranda," she explained.

Marguerite reached out to her and set her rifle aside to embrace her friend and hostess. "Are you sure that, that, that...squirming, creeping, vile THING is dead, John?" she demanded.

Roxton told her that snakes died hard, and that it would probably contort for some time, and be capable of biting by reflex if someone touched it, but that it no longer had a brain.

"I saw where I hit it," he explained, and the fall might kill it, even if I wasn't sure that I 'brained' it."

They called out to the Zanga below, and explained what had happened. A warrior responded that they would find the snake and butcher it for food. To them, fresh meat was fresh meat, and they lacked the whites' abhorrence of eating snake.

The blinds were firmly secured; hooking at the bottom on each side, and everyone talked and "wound down" from the disturbance.

"Ned, I'm so proud of you," said Veronica. "That boa might or might not have attacked an adult human. It was pretty big. But I'd hate to stumble across it in the morning, and they have a mean bite, even if it isn't venomous. " They all knew that bacteria on the snake's jaws might cause severe infection as well as the injury from actual perforations by the teeth. And boas were strong constrictors, killing their victims by squeezing their lungs until they could no longer breathe.

Ned shook hands all around, and Marguerite leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I felt that you deserved a substantial reward, Ned," she teased, "and getting one of my kisses is a priceless thing for a man. Ask Roxton: they're what make him act as if he was ten feet tall!"

They laughed, and rehashed the incident until their adrenaline had subsided to the point that they felt able to sleep again.

Challenger pointed out that he was already officially overdue to relieve Ned, and that the others could go back to bed. Finn said that she would keep Challenger company, perhaps dozing on the couch if she grew sleepy. Told that she didn't have to do that, she told all that she wouldn't be able to sleep for worrying with him downstairs, anyway, and might as well keep him company. "We can switch off and look after one another until John is due to relieve us in the morning," she explained.

"Well," said Marguerite, looking pointedly at the younger woman's bare legs, "I guess that will give George something to do to keep him alert!"

The others groaned, save for Veronica, who exclaimed, "Marguerite! That was uncalled for!"

"I'm teasing!" protested Marguerite. She did smile, and Finn forgave her, although she rolled her eyes in annoyance.

Everyone else trooped off upstairs, and the Challengers settled down on the couch, turning the lamp low to help their eyes adjust to the night.

"Want anything from the kitchen, Genius?" Finn asked.

He asked for coffee and pie, and they shared the refreshments she brought. Then, they sat on the couch again, and placed their pistols on the table in front of them. Finn snuggled next to Challenger, put her head on his lap, and told him to wake her if he grew weary. Then, she drifted off to sleep, as he stroked her hair and kissed her good night.

A breeze wafted through the thin slats between the blinds and moonlight silhouetted tree limbs. Challenger watched, then stirred to drape a blanket over his sleeping mate and settled down next to her and began planning what he wanted to do that day in the lab, if all remained quiet.

Dawn came, stealing quietly through the blinds as subtly as a ninja burglar, until the full majesty of the sun rose in all of its tropical glory, and jolted Challenger from a slight doze.

He started guiltily, and went to the window. He unhooked and raised the blind, and as he so often did, took his Zeiss 10X50 binocular and scanned the jungle below, all the way out to the horizon. He repeated this process for all the windows on this deck of the Treehouse, then went back to the couch.

Finn was still sleeping, so he crept quietly into the kitchen, located a frying pan, and opened the refrigerator. Good! There were still eggs. He found butter and was about to break two eggs into a cup when Finn entered the kitchen, rubbing her eyes.

She snuggled against him, pulling him close and kissed. Then, she realized what he was about to do, and shooed him out to the table. "We don't have enough eggs for you to learn to cook, Genius," she teased. "I'll make breakfast. Or, you can come back in here and make coffee. I'll miss you out there, and I know that you can make coffee. Even men can do some simple things in a kitchen."

"Make coffee do what?" he rejoined, but came back into the room, and busied himself with the pot. "Did you manage to sleep well, Darling? You seemed restless, but were out for several hours. John should be along any time now."

She told him that she'd like to eat and see if they could go upstairs and sleep for another two hours, then they heard Roxton on the stairs. Marguerite was behind him, still in her robe, one that she'd made after the style of Veronica's father's smoking jacket. It was short for a woman's robe, black with lace overlay in places.

Good: maybe she wouldn't make any verbal barbs about Finn being in George's shirt, the sleeves rolled up. At least, it was long enough to cover her shapely butt and a bit.

They briefed the Roxtons on the situation, and asked if there was any reason they shouldn't try to get a few hours' sleep after they ate.

Roxton said that he was up for the day, but Marguerite said that she thought the Challengers had an excellent idea, and that she would join them in sleep after she ate. "I just need to be sure that John is fully awake before I trust him to wander around on his own," she teased. "Besides, demons were fighting in my stomach, and I was afraid that the noise would wake everyone if I didn't have breakfast before I go back to bed."

"If you're that hungry, Marguerite," ribbed Finn, "I think the Zanga already have some of that snake cooked. You could probably eat with them."

"The trouble with you, Nicole," responded the other woman "is that you're too blonde and too clever by half for your own good. But, being the great humanitarian that I am, I'll forgive you for that suggestion if you'll cook me two eggs, over easy."

"Better do it, Finn," agreed Roxton. "It beats letting her cook her own. The smoke would choke us all. If there are enough eggs, I'd like three, scrambled, please. Can I help you squeeze orange juice, or something?"

"Help George," she said. "He's about done coping with the coffeepot, and your great male strength will wring the last available ounce of juice from the oranges." She fluttered her eyelashes at him, and Marguerite groaned and said something about lewd blonde provocateurs. Challenger chuckled. Whatever troubles were afoot, this group would prevail. He thought, not for the first time, that the most valuable thing that they had found on this Plateau was not the riches of Xochilenque or Marguerite's separate treasure hoards, but themselves, and their concern for one another. I thought at one time that Science was my god, he reflected, but I know now that there are higher things to revere, especially my friends who are my family, and most particularly especially, this onetime semiliterate urchin whom I love so dearly, and who is now about finished cooking my breakfast. Good thing, too. Sentry work is hungry duty...

He accepted his plate, took it and coffee to the table and helped Marguerite set out the other plates and cups. Marguerite made a smart remark about Finn not needing a cup until she was old enough to drink coffee. Roxton heard, and shook a finger at her in mock admonition. Finn grinned, and Challenger felt blessed to be in this place with these people. If only they could find and dispose of that awful rattlesnake cult, this would be a wonderful day...

The Challengers had just risen and cleaned up and were leaving their room when Marguerite rushed up the stairs.

"George, Nicole," she stammered, "I hope that I'm not making a fool of myself, but I was dozing in the living room, and I had a horrible vision that we are in great danger. My instincts aren't always right, and I may be an alarmist, but please humor me and arm yourselves and stay with me down there. I have no one else here. Ned and Veronica went hunting with some of the Zanga, and John is downstairs talking with the others."

"This was a strong premonition, Marguerite?" asked Challenger, scanning her face with concern.

"Yes, it bloody well was! Do you think I'd embarrass myself by running up here like a goosed schoolgirl if I wasn't uneasy?"

The Challengers looked at one another, and without a word returned to their room for their rifles. They already wore their gun belts with their side arms.

Moments later, Challenger scanned the jungle again on one side of the Treehouse, while Finn used her own Zeiss 8X30 glass from the other side of the room. Marguerite paced nervously, worried that either they would be attacked, or that she would be made the butt of jokes over her concern.

"I'm going down after Roxton," she finally announced. "If I have to walk around up here in a funk, that man can share my concern. If nothing else, I'll rest easier if he's up here."

"I thought you always rested pretty easy, M.," teased Finn. "Hey, what's for lunch, anyway? It's not far from noon."

"Lunch? Oh, I was going to wait until Veronica got back or you got up, Sweetie. One of you better qualified women in the kitchen... Now, what have I done with my rifle?" She cast her eyes about and saw her .303 sporter in a corner of the room and slung it over her shoulder and put on her hat.

She had just started for the elevator when they heard two shots from the northwestern side of the Treehouse. Finn was at that side of the room, and swung her binocular toward the noise. Marguerite paused, a look of shock on her face.

"Damn, get this!," Finn exclaimed. "Ned and Vee are running for the Treehouse with three Zanga, and those Rattlesnake Cult bastards are right behind them!" She put down the Zeiss and reached for her rifle. The others rushed to her aid, and began firing as they saw targets emerge from the jungle.

Ned Malone paused to kneel and aim two shots from his Springfield at the pursuers as Veronica and the three Zanga ran ahead. Then, Veronica turned, launched an arrow at the enemy, and screamed for Ned to move his posterior; that they had to reach the Treehouse and cover, or they were done for. Her voice carried to the decks above, and Finn resolved to help them all she could. She was using her Winchester, its firepower being preferable to the greater precision that her Mannlicher would afford, and at the ranges involved, the .44/40 would be ample power for the need.

"Veronica, run!" screamed Marguerite, swinging up her own rifle and searching for a target.

"What the Hell do you think I'm doing? Cover us!" Veronica yelled back.

On the other side of the Treehouse, Roxton had just greeted a party of 15 Zanga warriors, headed by a renowned war captain named Ta'Loana. This worthy had been sent by Jacoba to relieve the men left to guard the Treehouse, and they not only amounted to reinforcements; they had brought more provisions, to allow a stay of at least three days before they needed to hunt or be relieved.

Thus, Roxton had not only the 15 new men, but the six left who had not gone with the Malones that morning. He had the Bergmann submachine gun, too, and four spare magazines, as he had been about to lead a patrol into the jungle.

As soon as it became apparent that they were being attacked, the Zanga dropped their packs and readied their weapons. Roxton conferred briefly with Ta'Loana, and each took eight men and circled the Treehouse from opposite directions. Immediately, he found himself in action against cult members trying to attack from the SW flank. Obviously, a pincer movement had been planned, and the Malone party had probably stumbled into the northern group of the enemy as they made their way into attack position.

Roxton recognized the Golden Rattlesnake as he led the charge and swung up the Bergmann and squeezed off a short burst at him. Everywhere, shots were sounding. A battle had broken out, and both sides knew that the outcome would probably decide the fate of the invaders...and of the Treehouse crew!

Marguerite yelled for the Challengers to keep firing, and ran for the elevator, which she took down to receive the Malones as they ran up.

"God bless you, Marguerite!" shouted Veronica, as she and Ned rushed into the elevator and motioned to their two remaining Zanga companions. These men took a look, shook their heads, and ran for the other side of the Treehouse, where they saw their fellows already driving back the enemy. The Zanga, save for the few who regularly visited, were leery of the strange contraption that lifted people into the Treehouse.

"I should have just sent the car down and stayed up where I'd be of more use, and given you more room, in case the Zanga wanted to join us, " complained Marguerite.

"Honey, right now, I'd forgive you even your indolence and sarcasm for the past four years," gushed Veronica. "I'm just glad that we're on the way up!" She had no more than spoken than an arrow flashed into the door and struck the wall between Ned and Marguerite. Ned grabbed it, saying that it would make a great souvenir.

Marguerite and Veronica looked at one another, and in one breath, exclaimed, "Men!"

Then, the elevator was on the main deck, and the threesome rushed to help the Challengers.

"Does anyone see John?" wailed Marguerite. But no one had.

The firing continued for several minutes, and then the enemy broke and ran for their lives, the Zanga in pursuit.

After things had settled, Roxton came up in the elevator. He told them that the Golden Rattlesnake had obviously been wounded, and had run, with some of his men. Others were slain on the spot, or in hot pursuit.

"We can't be sure how many are left, but I shouldn't think it's even ten," he concluded. "The Zanga are out hunting them now, and they have a couple of dogs, which will help."

"John, you're bleeding," noticed Marguerite. She touched his side, where he had been grazed by a thrown spear.

"You should see the other fellow," he quipped. But he readily accepted the chair that Finn brought for him, and Challenger helped him off with his shirt and sent Finn for the things that he would need to cleanse and disinfect the wound.

Later, they sat eating lunch and discussing the probable course of events. They decided that their future jeopardy lay largely in whether the Rattlesnake survived. If he did, he might bring other minions with him, and they had no way to know where he would enter and leave the Plateau. If he died, the remaining followers would probably flee, seeing little prospect of success in remaining.

After lunch, Veronica was walking along the outside of the Treehouse, checking for damage from the fight that morning. She looked out over the expanse of jungle to the north and saw vultures circling.

She called Roxton, whose binocular confirmed the birds were on a kill, but he couldn't see what. They decided to see, trusting the Zanga to watch over their home.

In time, they found what had interested the vultures. Malone fired two shots into their midst, and the ungainly birds flapped off as the explorers approached.

There were two bodies there, and that of another man, almost dead, himself. He held a spear with which he had killed several vultures, but readily dropped it when Marguerite told him to. He was surprised that she spoke his tongue, but was so resigned to dying that he said he would answer their questions if they would give him water to ease his thirst.

Having drunk, this warrior told them that they probably need fear no more from the rattlesnake clan. Two others had fled, intending to join their people and warn them that the Plateau was too dangerous for them.

In a final squabble, these men had slain the wounded Golden Rattlesnake chieftain, and flung down his symbol of office, which presided over their sacrifices. They placed no faith in the idol's ability to protect them, as they believed it had in the past. He conceded that perhaps their earlier successes were due more to overwhelming numbers and surprise attacks than to any power the symbol of their kind possessed.

"Where is this symbol?" asked Malone, and the man waved vaguely behind him, to the left.

They searched, and Finn soon found a precise replica of a rattlesnake, crafted from real gold! It was large enough that it would represent a snake some three feet long, had it been made stretched out, instead of coiled. The raised head rose above the coils, mouth open and forked tongue making it look for all the world as if it was about to strike. The detail was such that the nostrils and the heat-sensory pits were clearly defined. The reinforced wicker basket that was its home was nearby. It was intact, although scuffed slightly from being thrown into a tree stump.

"What must that thing be worth?" marveled Marguerite. "It looks to be about 14 carat gold, and it weighs a good 25 pounds, including the base, although the snake is probably hollow inside. What shall we do with it?"

Finn pointed out that she had found it, and took it to Challenger and set the basket at his feet.

"There, Genius!" she said, beaming at him. "You finally have a rattler that you can handle without me having a heart attack! It's so detailed that it should prove interesting for you to research, whatever other value you may place on it. Just keep the danged thing in the lab, not in our room. And keep a cloth draped over it at night, just for my peace of mind."

Marguerite was aghast. "Now, just a damned minute here, Finn! These people menaced all of us, and that _objet d' art_ is so precious that you have no business appropriating it for George. Do you know how valuable that thing must be?"

"No, Marguerite, how fucking valuable is it?" she retorted. "However much it's worth, I already gave George something worth more to me, that being my heart. I kept him from catching and examining the real snakes it was based on. The least I can do is to give him the golden one. Besides, it'll look good in the lab, and he may learn something useful from it. If you have to be compensated, I'll trade you some of my loot from the Tecamaya for it."

"Let George have it," said Veronica. "Just keep it covered when I have to be in the lab, which isn't often. I'll give Marguerite some of my treasure, too, if I have to. George deserves this, for all he does for us. The electric refrigerator alone is worth my share of this thing."

Ned nodded, saying that he would make no claim on the sculpture, and John Roxton said that he'd be pleased to have Challenger receive it.

They gave the wounded man more water and quizzed him about his people, but he died as they pressured him. He wound up in a shallow grave, as did his companions, Challenger pressing the others for a decent interment for their defeated foe.

That night, he examined the golden snake in the lab, polishing it with a soft cloth. The Zanga had returned home, and the Treehouse was again at peace.

Roxton joined him in examining it, and even Veronica and Ned Malone came by to admire it. The detail molded into it was remarkable.

Finally, Marguerite walked in and told Challenger that she was foregoing any claim to it, and that she had decided that the best place for the artifact was where it was. "George, you and Finn paid the price for that thing and more when you freed John and me in Xochilenque. The least that I can do is to wish you happiness in owning it."

He thanked her, and everyone admired the golden snake for a few more moments, then they went up to bed, for it had been an exhausting day, with limited sleep the previous night.

As they turned off the last lamp and prepared to sleep, Finn said how glad she was that he had gotten some good from this horrible experience.

Challenger told her that the most good to come of it was that she had given him the wonderful golden snake because she loved him, and that it was this, not the value of the gold, that made it priceless.

"Nonetheless," he remarked, "I shall value it on all levels, one being that Marguerite saw fit to yield any claim she might have on it. That must have taken enormous effort on her part."

Finn agreed, and snuggled into his arms. They talked more, and then sleep took them. For once, Finn was quiet as she slept, having no dreams that stirred her rest, and Challenger slept the sleep of the exhausted.

In the jungle nearby, two snakes slithered along the same path, meeting and twisting in their mating ritual. They were the remnants of their kind, golden tropical rattlesnakes. They had emerged from dropped baskets as their owners had fled that day, and through their union, perhaps their kind would yet menace the Treehouse dwellers. Or, perhaps, they would be melded into the general population of rattlers on the Plateau.

Had he known about them, Challenger would have loved to know how they would breed. But that answer awaited another day. Those who had brought them were gone, and that was the important thing. With their passing, relative peace was again at hand...to the degree that any time on the Plateau was truly peaceful. Only the strong and the alert survived its dangers for long.

The End


End file.
